


Beautiful Disaster

by Setkia



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom!Zoro - Freeform, Chef!Sanji, Child Abuse, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kendo!Zoro, M/M, POV Alternating, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Top!Sanji, Verbal Abuse, bottom!Sanji, top!Zoro, versatile couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 178,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12984855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: Sanji is the assistant cook of the world-renowned restaurant, the Baratie, the only restaurant like it in the world. He’s a successful chef and flirts with the customers every chance he can get but there’s a problem. It’s all a façade. The cooks give a new meaning to the word “abusive”, both mental and physical. The only thing keeping Sanji alive is his love for cooking and a good ol’ pack of cigarettes.Roronoa Zoro is a swordsman who suddenly has more change in his pocket than he expected and enters the Baratie by recommendation. His waiter happens to be a curly browed man with an adoration for cigarettes. An attempt speak to the head chef goes horribly wrong and he gets sucked into the crumbling world of the chef's, wondering how he can possibly save him and better yet, why does he want to save him in the first place?





	1. The Waiter With The Curly Brow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Physical and verbal abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. So this story is pretty heavy, I can admit that. It covers a lot of topics, and the tags just brush the surface. Don't let them scare you too much though, it IS a good story. Hopefully uplifting. I've already posted it on FF.net and have decided to also post it on AO3. There will be warnings at the beginning of chapters, to warn you of things that you may find disturbing in them. I hope you guys like it. I started to post it on here a few years ago, but I'm doing a proper revision now, and so I think now is a better time to post it. Hope you enjoy!

A friend of his, Johnny, had recommended the joint. Said it served the best food he had ever tasted, even if they were a bit pricey. 

And yet, despite telling himself that once he had a wallet full of yen, he would be spending it on better things than some fancy-smancy restaurant—

“Um, I’m here to talk about my reservation?”

The blond behind the counter looked up at him. He had one of the curliest eyebrows Zoro had ever seen, above a deep blue eye and the cigarette he was smoking rested lazily in between his lips. He inhaled it as though he were smelling the sweetest rose, and not burning up his larynx.

“I’m Roronoa Zoro,” he said, feeling stupid. “I made a reservation?”

The man, whose name-tag read _“Sanji”,_ raised his curly eyebrow. “Roronoa.” His voice was low and deep. “This way,” he said, picking up a menu with a smile. It was obviously fake. He disposed of his cigarette into a waste bin behind the counter, and beckoned Zoro to follow him.

Zoro didn’t like the man’s attitude, but he did as instructed and took a seat in the far back of the restaurant where there was a _“No Smoking”_ sign. 

The swordsman waited anxiously for the man to leave, the smell of his cigarettes sticking to the blond’s black suit and making him cringe. To his horror, the man did not move. Instead, he opened his mouth, and in the same baritone said, “My name is Sanji, sir. Is there anything I can get you to drink?” 

_No fucking way._

“E-excuse me?” 

“May I get you anything to drink?” repeated the waiter. “We have a large assortment of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, all relatively reasonably priced.”

Zoro gaped. “B-but—”

“Yes?”

“You’re … you’re that guy who’s behind the counter, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you’re not a waiter? How can you have two jobs at once?”

The man frowned. “We’re a little short on staff. Everyone works on a rotation schedule and to be dreadfully honest sir, I’m not a waiter and would wish if you did not call me such. I’m a cook, a chef to be more precise. I’m merely filling in for certain roles which are currently vacant. I do believe the job which you so eloquently described as ‘that guy behind the counter’ would be the receptionist, Mr. Roronoa.”

Great, stuck with this guy for a whole night? No matter, he’d just order his food, eat quickly and leave. The Lord knew he was better at inhaling food rather than eating it and savouring flavours. He was a busy man with a tight schedule; he couldn’t put his whole day on hold for a few leisurely minutes to eat.

The waiter— _cook_ , gave him a nod. “Now, about that drink?”

_Let’s see, cocktails are 18 00 yen, red or white wine is 20 00 yen per bottle, a martini is 15 00 yen, a— holy crap, there’s no way a glass of vodka can possibly be 30 00 yen! Reasonable prices my ass!_

“I’ll just have water,” Zoro said, sending the fake cook a fake smile. It was good that he didn’t have any alcohol anyway, he had a tournament tomorrow, it wouldn’t do well to wake up with a hangover.

“Please feel free to browse the menu. I’ll be back shortly with your drink. Let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

Zoro turned back to his menu, ignoring his words.

Fuck, this place was expensive!

Zoro could already tell his wallet would be drained in a matter of minutes and that was if he only had an appetizer with no main course. How could people afford this stuff? The food couldn’t be good enough to even _consider_ putting such prices on the meals. He settled on sashimi and a cucumber and avocado sushi for his appetizer. It seemed as though his wallet would be about 120 00 yen lighter, but he would survive. Somehow.

He gave Sanji his order while Sanji gave him a glass of water in exchange. He wasn’t sure why, but the water tasted fantastic, which was weird since water didn’t have much taste to begin with. The ice couldn’t have magical properties, could it? 

Zoro raised the glass to his eye, as though by doing this, he could better understand its secrets. He watched the ice swirl around inside and heard a woman chuckle to his left. Immediately, his head snapped around but the woman looked away, instead speaking to her friend, whispering in her ear. Probably about him from the way the girl was giggling as well.

It wasn’t his fault he had never been to such a high-class place. Just because he might be famous in the martial arts and kenjutsu circles didn’t mean that he was made of money. Kendo fights only gave him so much and he was a free-lance fighter as a hobby. Zoro wouldn't apologize if his etiquette didn’t match that of others.

The cook brought over his food as he pondered the best way to explain himself— a uncouth, dirty swordsman in such an elegant place as the Baratie— to the woman, before he decided it didn’t matter once the smell of his appetizer met his nose.

It was heavenly. Just the smell of it was enough to make his mouth water. The cook seemed rather pleased, watching the way Zoro practically salivated over the dish before he finally got his chopsticks in his hand and dug in.

Zoro didn’t usually savour the flavour of anything, but it was truly exquisite and he found it would be downright rude not to enjoy the taste. It melted on his tongue, tantalizing his tastebuds and left him wanting more. It took perhaps a minute and a half before all of the sushi was gone. 

He frowned at his now empty plate. He probably could’ve eaten slower.

Sanji let out a laugh.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re enjoying your meal I see?” 

Zoro’s eyes narrowed and the man laughed again. It was short and abrupt, and it wasn’t until the cook took his plate that Zoro realized it was fake.

Horribly and completely hollow of emotion, thinking about that laugh sent shivers down Zoro’s spine. 

There was something up about this cook. 

He watched as Sanji leaned over a table to speak to a nice woman with pretty blonde hair. He had a cigarette in his mouth once more. It suit him. He was obviously flirting with the girl, who blushed and swatted his hand away playfully. He whispered something in her ear and Zoro snickered.

The Baratie may be high-class, but the waiters didn’t seem all that put together. 

There was something about the way Sanji moved. It was so fluid and natural, graceful even. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just an unnaturally graceful waiter. Zoro was about to stop his intense observation of the blond (he could admit it was starting to seem creepy), when he saw Sanji bump into another waiter. Sanji stopped the waiter’s tray from falling from the collision, quickly, giving it back to him, but the look on the other waiter’s face was nowhere near grateful. 

The route that Sanji took across the restaurant, Zoro realized, was not fluid and natural in the slightest. The way he seemed to glide was because he was on the tips of his toes, ready to move anywhere at the last instant and whenever he found himself in a corner of the room, the curly browed cook would look at the room calculatingly before he took his steps, always moving in a certain route. A route that, Zoro realized, avoided all other waiters in the room.

It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, the way that Sanji seemed to ignore them, as though they weren’t there. He didn’t make it obvious and Zoro supposed it wasn’t supposed to be obvious. He did it so naturally, so instinctively, you wouldn’t think it was unusual unless you saw the way his jaw clenched on his cigarette when he was dangerously close to brushing by another waiter.

Certain his hungry stomach was making him see things, Zoro was more than delighted when his main course arrived.

Using his chopsticks, he took a piece of the sashimi. Instantly, his eyes closed and his head tossed itself back. He let out a delighted moan that was just a little too loud and the entire room turned towards him. He glared at them all before taking another bite out of the orgasmic meal. 

If the appetizer was heaven, then the meal was paradise. It made him want to roll his eyes into the back of his head and just slip into a coma of the sensations it gave him, filling his stomach fully and wonderfully.

“Satisfied?” Zoro didn’t have to look to know the cook was smirking.

Zoro finished his food and was well and full when Sanji handed him another menu. “And for dessert, Mr. Roronoa?” he asked.

Dessert? Zoro hadn’t even thought of dessert. Imagawayaki sounded remarkably good right now and despite the fact that his stomach was busting, Zoro nodded and asked for an order of it.

It was only after the menu was gone and the order was placed that Zoro realized how many zeroes had been next to the dessert’s price. He was going to go bankrupt here. He hated to admit it but Johnny had been right. Regardless of that, Zoro wouldn’t be able to pay his rent, never mind the bill at this rate.

When his dessert was brought to him, he ate it without question and once again, nearly melted from the taste. He almost let out another moan, but he held it in, Sanji smirking all the while, probably knowing that Zoro was loving his meal. 

Once he was done, the check came. This was the part that Zoro had been dreading. Pulling out his wallet, he searched through his money. His tally was 147 75 yen. Boy was he glad he hadn’t asked for any fancy wine.

He paid his amount and was about to stand when he thought it over.

Zoro had been paying an unnatural amount of attention towards his waiter and the service had been good, not to mention the food (Zoro was sure if he thought about the food long enough, he might end up moaning again, so he resisted the urge), so maybe he could spare a few more minutes and speak to the head chef, give his proper compliments and all.

Zoro pushed out his chair, got his jacket, and headed for the kitchen doors. Maybe he could just pop in quickly, give the man his compliments to the chef and then he’d get the sleep he needed before his competition tomorrow.

Zoro was about to knock on the door when he heard a loud sound.

In general, Zoro figured that kitchens were noisy, with cooks and chefs and waiters running in and out, plus the sound of the pots and pans— the making of food was no silent task, after all— but this loud sound had not been pots or pans. 

No, this loud sound was a scream. 

One of pain.

Looking around him, no one else seemed to have noticed the scream. Against his better judgement, Zoro listened.

“You think I can serve this shit?” 

There was a wince and Zoro looked through the small window of the doors to see inside. It didn’t look like there was a shortage of staff. There was steam from the pots and beeping from the ovens, distracting him until his eyes fell upon a large man in a hairnet, waving around a ladle as though it were a weapon.

“There’s nothing wrong with my soup!” 

Zoro knew that voice. 

Sanji. 

But where was he?

“Oh yeah?” demanded the other man. “Are you trying to poison our customers? This shit’s horrible—”

Hadn’t Sanji said he was a chef? He had sounded so proud of himself when he said it too. What kind of chef took pride in his meals if they were shit? Was one of them lying?

_CRASH!_

A bowl of soup fell to the floor and shattered, the liquid pooling at the man’s feet. “I can’t believe the old man lets you cook here! And why were you out there serving? You’re a cook, as shitty as you are, you aren't supposed to be out with the waiters!”

“I’m a shitty cook?” Sanji repeated. “ _I’m_ a shitty cook? I’m surprised people can manage to swallow the load of shit you feed them!”

_SMACK!_

Sanji came into Zoro’s few when he hit the floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the blood almost invisible on his black blazer, but still undeniably there. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Head chef ain’t here, which means you’re no different from us,” the big man said. “You should know your fucking place!” He struck Sanji with the ladle harshly in the gut. Zoro watched the pain as it registered in Sanji’s expression, a matching pain hitting Zoro.

“And that sashimi you made?” The man spat on the ground, onto the soup. “The only reason we served it was because we didn’t have time to fix your fuck up!”

Wait, _Sanji_ had made that heavenly sashimi? Zoro understood why people had food kinks now, the man in the hairnet was clearly lying to him. But _why_?

“Now get the fucking dishes done, you’re not leaving this room till closing time, right, Carne?” the big man asked, turning to grin at someone who was out of Zoro’s line of vision.

The man moved away, kicking the broken pieces of the bowl at Sanji, before he rolled up his sleeves and went back to cooking. 

Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette. He picked up the broken pieces of the bowl while the rest of the kitchen continued as though this were nothing new. Was this … normal? 

As Sanji threw the broken pieces of the plate into the garbage, the two's eyes met.

Sanji froze, as though he had been caught committing a heinous crime, the colour draining from his already pale face. Was this the secret of the curly brow waiter? Was this why he avoided the other waiters?

Zoro bolted to his car and once the door slammed shut, he sat in silence behind the wheel, the keys in the silent ignition.

Fuck it if he went broke, he was coming back.

It was happening. He had seen it all, but hopefully, this time there would be a different outcome. He could see the future that awaited the man, could see it in his eyes and it scared him.

Zoro didn't know how far gone the cook was, but he knew he wouldn't let him fall any deeper. 

He would catch him, like he should've caught Her.


	2. That Marimo Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. For reference, odd numbered Chapters are told through Zoro's POV, and even are Sanji's. At the rate I'm going with editing, my Christmas chapter I wrote in the middle of July will be editing AT Christmas. I know I said weekly updates, but I'm really excited about this and so this is really just to get the ball rolling/establish the narration style.

The bastard was here again.

He didn’t know why, but for some reason, that annoying moss-headed idiot was sitting at a seat in the corner of the room, this time in a smoking-permitting zone. 

Sanji knew that pretending to be a waiter had been worth the abuse. True, he was more bruised than he probably would have been if he had just stayed inside the kitchen, but socializing with the customers was something he hadn't done in so long. The look on their faces when they ate their food, especially when it was food Sanji had prepared, was priceless. 

The waiters had ignored him unless they were forced to acknowledge his presence and the others in the kitchen had given him scowls, but took the orders he had submitted and allowed him to return to serve them to the customers. It had worked once, maybe it could work again? He’d take whatever punishment those awful cooks deemed appropriate to see the beautiful Baratie being run the way he and Zeff had envisioned it.

Taking a long drag, he approached the moss-haired idiot, a notepad clutched in his hand, a menu in his other. 

 _He doesn't know that much,_ he reasoned with each step, though he couldn’t seem to convince himself, no matter how much he wanted to. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears. _You don't know how long he was there, he could’ve seen nothing. Or he could have seen everything._

“Hello and welcome to the Baratie,” he greeted with a smile. Whoever said it took less muscles to smile than to frown was a fucking liar. “Is there anything I can get you to drink to start you off?”

As the man looked at his menu, Sanji tried to place him. He was familiar. He had gotten the same feeling the night before. His eyes wandered to a TV broadcast, (Sanji hated the TVs, they were Carne’s idea) the headline reading:

_Roronoa Zoro takes first place prize in national Kendo competition!_

“You’re Roronoa Zoro, the Kendo champion?”

“Yeah? So?”

 _Fucking fantastic._ Not only was he seen at his lowest point by a customer, that customer had to be Roronoa Zoro, the famous Kendo star. Sanji felt stupid for not recognizing him sooner.

“I’ll have water.”

“Pardon?” asked Sanji, pulled out of his thoughts. 

“My drink. I’ll have water.”

“Of course, right away sir,” said Sanji, flashing him a fake smile.

“No Mr. Roronoa today?” Zoro teased. “Or was that just a one-time special?" 

Sanji ignored him. He had to figure out how he would deal with this mess, before he could even think about playing games with the swordsman.

He took the pitcher from a deserted tray on an empty table and returned to Zoro, pouring it into his glass. 

The green-haired man smiled at him as he poured his drink. How long had it been since he had seen someone smile for a reason other than food with such sincerity? Better question: when was the last time someone had smiled at _him_?

Unsure of how to respond, he busied himself in looking around the restaurant. From the look on the clients’ faces, they liked his famous soup, not that anyone had to know it was his. After all, what was an assistant chef who took credit for his own work? No, Patty could take all the credit he wanted. Sanji couldn't wait for the day when the media finally asked him how he made it and Patty gave them that blank stare. 

There was a tugging at his cuff.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to order now, Cook.”

Sanji's eyes widened. Of the few people he told on the occasions he managed to sneak out of the kitchens about his cook status, none remembered. 

Shaking off his surprise, he nodded. “What will it be, Mr. Roronoa?”

“I think I’ll have the tempura for my main dish.”

“And for your appetizer?”

Zoro smirked. “The soup.”

Sanji didn’t have to ask which one.

Entering the kitchen with caution, he looked both left and right, making sure Patty was no where to be seen. He approached one of the less aggressive cooks (they were all aggressive in the end) and placed the order before leaving the kitchen quickly and swiftly.

People watching was a habit of his. Cabin fever, or rather, kitchen fever, did that to him. He would stare at the others around the restaurant, memorizing everything and he would store it away until he needed it again. When he was sick with loneliness. 

“Sanji!”

Sanji turned at the sound of his name to see Moodie, the blonde beauty. “Hello, darling,” he said with a bright smile. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Moodie said. “Fullbody’s gotten unbearable. I was thinking about taking you up on that offer, if you know what I mean?”

Sanji offered her a smile in return. Fake, forced, but not as forced as usual. She always brought that out of him. “I wish I could Honey, but the Chief’s got me running in circles.” He gently slid his hand down her shoulder, resting at her elbow. She acted like she was touch-starved. Fullbody was an ungrateful douche. “Hang in there, alright? You’re far too pretty to be wasted on some idiot like Fullbody.”

Moodie smiled and let out a giggle. “I’m pretty, am I?”

Sanji let out a short laugh of his own. “Absolutely stunning,” he assured her. “Now, I have to get going but I’ll see you later, okay, Sweetie?”

Moodie nodded and returned back to her table where she sat with the idiot lieutenant who knew nothing about being fair to women. Sanji didn’t have much experience, to be honest, but it was clear that the way Fullbody showed her off like she was a trophy was not the right way to handle a woman. If your date needed to be told she was pretty when it was obvious, something wasn’t right.

“Sanji, your order’s here!”

Sanji quickly checked his watch. The later in the night it got, the more the cooks hit the booze. It was nine. He was safe for now.

He dove into the kitchen quickly, grabbed Zoro’s order and was half-way out the door when he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and yanked back by a big meaty hand.

Fuck.

“What were you doing out there, eh, Shit Cook?” demanded Patty. “Playing servant?” He looked at the bowl of soup in Sanji’s hands and scowled. “You wanna feed someone this shit? You’ll need to clean up the puke when they hurl.” Sanji lost his balance as Patty punctuated his sentence with a push forwards, making Sanji tumble out the swinging doors, the bowl falling from his tray. There was a clatter and everyone’s eyes turned towards him. Including Zoro’s. Fuck.

Sanji tried to ignore the whispers as he cleaned up the mess quickly before racing back into the kitchen. He went to the backroom to make a fresh pot of the soup. He could forgive their rudeness, it was the waste of perfectly good food that had him boiling.

Once it was finished, he made extra sure that no one was around and dashed out the kitchen doors. Speed was something he had learnt was very beneficial to him if he used it to his advantage. He could be in and out of the kitchen in no time at all, leaving the other cooks wondering if he had ever really been there to begin with.

He walked over to Zoro's table, bavo in place. His shirt clung to his body, still damp and probably smelling of soup but he ignored it and placed the soup on Zoro’s table. “Sorry for the wait, there were … complications.”

“Complications?” Zoro looked Sanji up and down.

Sanji knew that Zoro had seen his fall, so he wasn’t staring at his chest in order to identify the wet blotch, so then, why was he staring? He wasn’t wearing white, there was no way Zoro could see the scars— was he … _checking him out_? Sanji mentally shook his head. That was preposterous. Paranoid regardless, he left Zoro to his own devices and headed to his next client.

Once Zoro’s food was ready, Sanji speedily went in and out of the kitchen, returning quickly before Patty had another chance to get to him. It was nine thirty and though he hated to admit, Zoro’s dinner experience was probably crippled and took longer than most. 

Placing the food on the table, this time Sanji stuck around, watching as Zoro ate. There was something so open about how the swordsman enjoyed his meal that reminded Sanji why he was still here after all these years.

As Zoro cleaned his plate, Sanji spotted Moodie sitting next to Fullbody. That man was pure scum and yet somehow, a woman with as much beauty as Moodie had become his latest reluctant companion. It made Sanji’s blood boil—

“—was yours, right?”

Sanji's head snapped back to Zoro and gave him a strange look. “Pardon?”

“That soup, it was yours, right? You made it.”

Sanji could only nod numbly. How had this man figured it out before the press?

“Anything for dessert, Mr. Roronoa?” asked Sanji, trying to cover up his surprise. 

Zoro shook his head. “Can I have the check please?”

Sanji nodded and returned moments later with it in hand. 

“How’s your diaphragm?”

Sanji choked. Zoro didn’t look up from his wallet, leafing through it to get out the 130 00 yen he needed. “You’re short about 50 00 yen.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” said Zoro. “I don’t really make that much and besides, I have to keep bailing my friends out of jail so with those fees and all—” Zoro coughed into his hand and Sanji wondered why the man was being so awkward. Then it hit him.

He knew.

Did he feel sorry for him? Was that why he was sharing so much? The last thing Sanji wanted was pity. What could he possibly do to keep Zoro from telling? How could he make Zoro forget?

Seeing the trouble the green-haired man was in, Sanji came up with an idea. It was a long-shot but he needed to try it.

Leaning over the table, Sanji lowered his voice. “I’ll let it slide, the money I mean, if you forget about what you saw.”

Zoro gaped at him.

“So?” Sanji asked. “What do you say?”

“Fuck no!”

Everyone turned to Zoro’s table once again and Sanji sighed, biting down harshly on his cigarette. Would it kill the moron to be quiet? 

Sanji sent him a glare and Zoro had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. “Fuck no,” he repeated in a quieter voice.

“What do you want?” he asked. “What’s it going to take for you to forget?”

Without a beat, Zoro replied, “This table.”

Sanji let out a laugh. “Sorry Mr. Roronoa, we don’t sell them. Go out to a nice furniture store, I’m sure you can find one just like it.”

Zoro gritted his teeth. “No, you bastard, that’s not what I meant. I want this table reserved for me. Every night.”

Sanji raised a surprised eyebrow. “Okay,” Sanji said disbelievingly.

“I’ll pay you whatever’s in my wallet. All of it. If I have 150 00 yen, I’ll give it to you, even if the meal only costs me 125 00 yen. Whatever cash is in my wallet at the time, I’ll use to pay you. The whole contents of it.”

“What, nothing left for gas money?”

Zoro ignored him. “Do we have a deal?”

“If I do this, reserve this table for you every night, will you forget what you saw?”

“On my honour.”

“Oh, a swordsman’s honour! It’s practically God’s word!” 

“Do we have a deal or not?” 

Sanji frowned at his finished cigarette. Pulling out a new one, he lit it up, hoping Zoro didn’t notice the way his hand trembled with the lighter. Tossing the finished cigarette into the ashtray, he breathed in the smoke. “Deal.” Looking behind him, he saw Patty’s silhouette in the kitchen doors. “Now, if you would excuse me, Mr. Roronoa, I have a job to do.”

“Zoro,” the swordsman said. “Call me Zoro.”

Sanji let out a bitter laugh that held no happiness or joy. He sent him a harsh glare. “Don’t push it.”

With that, he walked to the kitchen, already able to feel the rolling pin crushing his ribs.


	3. Hello Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. I have now edited half of the story in its entirely and it's shorter than the original, but it's still pretty damn long ... Anyway, I hope you guys like this!

The Baratie was going to run him bankrupt.

Zoro knew it was expensive, but he came every night with some comfort knowing that he wouldn’t have to convince the “receptionist” as Sanji had called them, to let him in because this time around, he had a reservation. 

He was pretty sure Johnny was regretting telling him about the Baratie since he hadn’t gone out for drinks with him and his friend, Yosaku, since. In fact, he had only been ordering water so he had been sober for a new record of time. Somehow, Sanji, who had known him for about a week, had managed to quell his (minor, it hardly even existed as far as Zoro was concerned) drinking problem.

Taking his usual seat, Zoro watched the cook with an intense gaze that he usually used to size up his opponents. He was able to watch all of Sanji’s moves as he walked around the restaurant and he wondered if this time, he was being allowed to serve. It had become clear to him that the first time he had come to the Baratie, Sanji was not a waiter and was not permitted into the dining hall, but maybe it was better? He didn’t seem to be walking with a limp, nor were any of his fingers looking crushed or damaged in any way. When Sanji set down his water, Zoro noticed he wasn’t holding his ribs anymore which meant that whatever damage that ladle had inflicted on him was long gone.

He gave Sanji a small smile and the cook stared back. It didn’t take Zoro long to learn Sanji didn’t know how to deal with smiles.

Zoro didn’t know a thing about Sanji and that irked him. Here he was, spending all of his money to eat at a fancy restaurant every night, giving up his liquor so he’d still have money the next morning, all to watch over some cook whom he knew absolutely nothing about. 

Enough was enough.

He would learn something about the tall cook if it was the last thing he did.

As Sanji set down his appetizer, Zoro readied himself to attack.

“Here you are, Mr. Roronoa, _bon appetite._ ”

Zoro opened his mouth, ready to ask a question to the blond cook when he realized something.

He had no fucking clue what to say.

It was puzzling that though Zoro knew nothing about Sanji, he didn’t even know where to begin when it came to asking him questions. He wasn’t even sure if Sanji would answer any of his questions. He knew any inquires about his injuries were completely off-limits— it was part of their deal after all— but there had to be more to the cook than a few scars and bruises.

“If you would close your mouth, Mr. Roronoa, it would be ever helpful. People are starting to stare.” The bastard was smirking.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

What. The. _Hell_?

Zoro wanted to hit himself. _What’s your favourite colour?_ How old was he, fucking three? Surely there was a better question he could find in his arsenal to ask the cook, but instead of asking another, he waited. Fucking Christ, he was actually _waiting for the cook to tell him his favourite colour_. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Sanji raised a curly eyebrow at him. “I don’t see how this is relevant to your meal—”

“What’s. Your. Favourite. Colour?” Zoro repeated. While his brain acknowledged that it was just a stupid colour, his pride told him he had just growled at the blond like he was his opponent in a match, he was getting his fucking answer.

“Don’t have one.”

Zoro stared at him. He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then—

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t have one?!”

Zoro didn’t even bother checking, he knew everyone was staring at him. Fuck them, he wasn’t going to apologize. “Don’t have one.”

“Mr. Roronoa, I believe that’s a horrible misrepresentation of my—”

“What kind of a fucking answer is that?” Zoro demanded, getting out of his seat, slamming his hands onto the table. The bastard had the nerve to smirk around his cigarette as he took another drag.

“I. Don’t. Have. One,” Sanji repeated slowly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other clients to tend to.”

With that, the blond turned around and left Zoro standing there, unable to fathom a response.

* * *

The next night, Zoro took his seat at his table and before Sanji could even welcome him, he said, “Blue.”

“Pardon?”

“Blue. My favourite colour’s blue,” Zoro told Sanji through gritted teeth.

“I never asked.”

“Yeah well, I’m fucking telling you since you prefer not to tell me.”

There was silence and then— 

“Would’ve thought it’d be green.”

Zoro gave him an incredulous look as he ordered his usual. When Sanji placed his glass of water on the table as usual, he leaned closer to Zoro and whispered, “Black.”

Zoro was stared at once more for screaming about how black wasn’t a fucking colour, it was a shade, all while the calm cook smoked his damn cigarette.

* * *

After going to the Baratie nightly for a month, Zoro knew the following things about the curly browed cook:

  * He enjoyed classical music, specifically Chopin
  * He was rather fond of e.e cummings
  * He had almost all of William Shakespeare’s greatest works (and some of his lesser-known ones) memorized and could recite them at a drop of a hat
  * He had read every book by Charles Dickens
  * He hated politics and had no clue who the fuck was in the Diet
  * He thought cooking shows were pointless and no one should make money off of showing others how to make a turkey when Thanksgiving came.
  * He smoked King Ground cigarettes, but also liked Death.
  * He was twenty-three
  * His favourite colour was black (even if black was a fucking shade)



Zoro learnt quite a few things that Sanji never told him. He was right handed, didn’t read the news, rarely got out much, and knew way too much about those animes you usually grew out of by the time you were twenty (and if you hadn’t, you never admitted to it publicly). 

One thing about Sanji became apparent quickly. Unless you asked, you would never know a thing about him and even then, he was reluctant to give out information. It was a slow process, trying to piece together who Sanji was from the brief, not to mention vague encounters he had with him. It wasn’t until he had been to the Baratie for a month and a half that Zoro ever saw Sanji unguarded and it wasn’t even at the restaurant itself that it happened.

* * *

Zoro grumbled, walking down the long aisles, looking for some eggs. He was pretty sure he was in the dairy section, but then again, if it really _was_ the dairy section, why was the olive oil there too? 

As he picked up a can of beans (seriously, what the fuck was up with this dairy section?), he spotted blond hair out of the corner of his eye. He would’ve thought nothing of it, had it not been for the smell of nicotine that was coming from that general direction.

“Fucking bastards,” he heard the blond mutter. “Do your own grocery shopping, you lazy assholes.” 

Zoro watched the man’s back. He was wearing a white shirt with a pair of black pants and black boots. The way he moved, practically on the tips of his toes, was too familiar to be a coincidence.

“Curly Brow?”

Immediately, the blond stiffened. Zoro could just see him locking his jaw, the cigarette probably grinding against his teeth. He started to retreat, as though by backing away slowly, Zoro would forget having seen him, but he stopped suddenly, keeling over. Holding his stomach, Sanji coughed harshly before trying to straighten himself up, but he pushed against a shelf and knocked over several cans of soup, falling forward instead.

“Fuck,” Sanji muttered, picking up the cans.

“Didn’t know you were such a klutz,” Zoro said, though his eyes held worry. He bent down next to Sanji and began to help him clean up when Sanji slapped his hand away.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Yeah well, too bad, you’re getting it anyway, Curly Brow,” Zoro replied. Picking up a can of Canbell soup, Zoro frowned. “What kind of fucking dairy section is this?”

Sanji rolled his eyes and pulled the can out of his grasp. “This isn’t the dairy section, you marimo!”

Zoro stared at him blankly. _What the fuck is a marimo?_ Zoro shook his head, pushing the thought aside. “I’m trying to be a nice person, so shut up and be grateful, dammit!” He grabbed the can out of Sanji’s hands and placed it back on the shelf with a triumphant smile, as though this was something that he was infinitely proud of. 

Sanji grumbled, no doubt realizing that there was no way Zoro was going to give up and the two of them cleaned up the aisle together while the other shoppers stared and pointed. There was even a little boy who walked up to Zoro and asked him if he was a fairy. Zoro had nearly struck Sanji in the head with the can of soup that was in his hand at that moment for laughing his ass off, but held back, remembering the cook’s wince when he keeled over.

After they finished, Zoro stood up. “Well Dart Brow, perhaps I should join you on your shopping adventure?”

Sanji raised his curly brow. “Pardon?”

It was never “excuse me” with Sanji, always “pardon”.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you destroying the store, now would we?” Zoro asked, elaborating his point.

“I wouldn’t destroy the store.”

Zoro eyed Sanji’s cigarette. “You’re a walking fire hazard.”

“Yes, well, I think I’ll manage just fine,” Sanji told him with a frown. Pushing his cart in the opposite direction, he tried to avoid Zoro, but Zoro quickly got in front of him, stopping him from leaving the aisle. “Move it, Marimo.”

“No.”

“You’re not going to move until I let you come with me, will you?”

Zoro shook his head.

Sanji sighed far too dramatically than necessary. “Fine. You’ll look like a lost puppy though.”

Zoro smirked, glad to have won and began to walk beside Sanji and his cart. “So wait,” he said slowly, “if we’re not in the dairy section, where the fuck are we?”

* * *

Following Sanji while he did his groceries was surprisingly a lot of fun. Sanji got into fights over prices and he got yelled at several times for smoking inside the store before Sanji gave them the finger and told them to fuck off. The blond loaded his cart with enough carrots to feed a barn of horses and when Zoro pointed it out, Sanji said he was purchasing this food for the sake of the restaurant, which needed to have a full supply if they wanted to make just about anything on the menu.

When they finally got to the cash register, Zoro picked up a cooking magazine, curious if perhaps, just maybe, Sanji enjoyed them. “Would you look at that? There’s a review for the Baratie in here!”

“Oh yeah?” asked Sanji, sounding somewhat interested in doing something other than picking a fight for the first time that day. 

“Yeah,” Zoro said. “It gives the Baratie four and a half stars. _The food is delicious with a melt-in-your-mouth aftertaste that leaves customers dying for another bite. The decor of the restaurant utilizes a pale colour scheme and the waiters are outstandingly polite, with the exception of a certain curly browed cook—”_

Sanji grabbed the magazine out of Zoro’s hands and it was then that Zoro noticed the gauze. His left hand was bandaged poorly, with a crimson stain over his index finger.

“What is that?” 

“Move your feet, you fucking green haired freak!”

“Shut your pie-hole, Dr Seuss!” Zoro snapped at the rude man. He turned back to Sanji. “Explain this to me.”

“Explain what?” Sanji asked, playing innocent. It didn't suit him.

Zoro’s eyes narrowed in on the gauze and Sanji’s eyes followed his.

“Oh.” Sanji paled. He turned his head away sharply, jutting out his chin to the side. “It’s nothing. Besides, why the fuck do you care?”

“Your ribs are hurting too, aren’t they?” Zoro remembered the way Sanji had keeled over, holding his side. “I know I’m in no position to say this, but I think you should go to the hospital.”

“You’re right,” Sanji snapped. “You have no fucking right to tell me that, so don’t.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “But I really think—”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you think,” Sanji cut him off. “That wasn’t the deal we had.” Fuming, he moved forward in the line and took out his wallet, leafing through his money. 

The person in front of them at the cash finished up and Sanji handed his things to the man behind the counter. 

“Okay, fair,” Zoro agreed, “but you need help. At least, I think you do and you’re too damn fucking prideful to go looking for it so I think it’s only fair that I tell you my opinion on your personal well-being!” Zoro sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Besides, the deal applies when I’m on Baratie property, which I’m currently not.”

“We never said that,” Sanji snapped, handing over his money to the cashier.

“Yeah well, it was in the subtext!”

“Then write down a fucking contract if you need to, but if it includes that, I’m not fucking signing it!” Sanji snarled. Grabbing his bagged groceries, he left Zoro standing there at the check-out, the man behind him yelling at him to “get a fucking move on”, while he simply tried to collect his thoughts.

During the ride back, Zoro couldn’t help but think about what Sanji had said. 

The blond was a tough man. He knew that. Quick as a whip and talented (at least at cooking), well-grounded, probably had a lot of self-discipline and could probably hold his own as well. Surely someone like him wouldn’t have trouble getting himself out a scrape like this, would he? Perhaps Sanji just wasn’t a good fighter when it came down to it, maybe he was just weak— no. That sounded stupid. Sanji was not weak. 

Perhaps Zoro had never seen Sanji fight for himself against the cooks, but he could see it in his eyes. Sanji had a fire in his eyes, slightly dimmer than it probably was originally, but it was still there and it would probably remain there for quite some time. Sanji was _not_ weak. 

So why wasn’t Sanji finding himself help? He was prideful, but surely when it came to a scenario of physical abuse, that must mean that he had _some_ sense of self-preservation and looked for help somewhere, regardless of the blow to his ego. 

Unless it was more than just physical.

Were they also mentally abusing him? He heard the insults, sure, but was there more than that? Were they threatening him to stay? Were they holding him hostage and blackmailing him? What was the truth behind the Baratie?

When Zoro finally got home, (after taking five wrong turns, nearly going through a red light twice and circling around a building three times, he would blame it on his intense thinking session), he walked into his small apartment, flipped on the light, threw his keys on the couch and the moment he sunk into the comfy cushions, realized something.

_Shit, I forgot to buy my groceries._


	4. Would Anyone Care?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> Physical abuse  
> Verbal abuse  
> Rape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. For those who have read the original version, they might find that this version is longer. Like maybe 2k longer? This is a sad chapter, fair warning. I'm going to start putting the warnings in the chapter summaries, so you're not looking for them through the giant blur of text that's my author notes. This is why I had to use the non-con warning ... It makes me sick when I edit it, but I ended up making it longer because I hate the smut I write and maybe this smut, while by no means GOOD, because of course, it's rape, but I think it's better than it was before.

_SMACK!_

Sanji tried not to flinch as the spatula came down on him forcefully. He had learnt better than to try and dodge the attacks. That was a pointless goal and besides, in the end it did him nothing but earn more strikes from the mercy-less cooks. 

Patty had already counted to eight. He had two more to go before they let him be. 

No, he was never allowed to just _be_. He was allowed breaks in between beatings and nothing more.

“Count them!” demanded Patty once more.

Sanji learnt that the worst thing he could do was become emotionless. Though he remembered vaguely being told that bullies enjoy getting rises out of others and that if you left them alone and didn’t react, surely they would get bored and move onto their next target, at the Baratie, this was not the case. In fact, if he pretended nothing happened Patty and Carne would hit him worse and act even harsher because everyone has a breaking point and they didn’t plan on stopping until they reached it and then some.

_SMACK!_

“Nine,” Sanji said through gritted teeth, refusing to let out a whimper. Whimpering was weak. His dignity may have left him quite a few years ago and maybe his ego was bruised, but his pride would never waver, not even for Patty.

_SMACK!_

“Ten.”

“Good,” said Patty, sounding satisfied. Pushing Sanji forward, he threw the spatula down next to him and let out a long laugh. “Clean up the kitchen, Shit Cook.” Kicking flour in Sanji’s direction, he spat on the floor. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

_Of course you will._

Sanji listened as the door to the restaurant closed and locked. Closing his eyes tightly, Sanji refused to cry and pulled himself up, slightly unsteady on his feet, accessing the damage around himself to figure out how long it would take him before he could get some sleep.

 There was broken glass on the floor, the remains of another broken dish, wasted food had been spilt and the dishes still weren’t done. The room had to be spotless for when they opened tomorrow morning. 

With shaking hands, Sanji got the broom and began to sweep the floor, making sure not to step in any glass as he swept it away. 

After an hour of sweeping, the flour had been swept away and thrown into the trash (such a waste). The cooks enjoyed leaving their used pots and pans everywhere and clearing the tables of everything was hard. Placing all the used dishware into the already flooding sink, Sanji went to work at cleaning the tables.

For a reason he wouldn’t dare admit, cleaning the tables had to be his least favourite thing to do.

He could see his reflection in the stainless steel as he wiped them down, getting rid of left-over pieces of lettuce and the like. When it was done, he had no choice but to look at his own reflection, no matter how much it pained him.

When Sanji looked into the mirror-like table, he saw a skinny man with arms and legs too long for his body. If he took off his shirt, he was sure he’d see his own ribs (which was why he never bothered and avoided mirrors like the plague). He saw blond hair that looked so plain, it was like having straw for hair. He saw a dull blue eye and wished for the thousandth time his hair would allow him to cover both, but of course, fate was cruel in such a way that it was impossible. He saw lips that were too cracked to possibly look attractive and he saw eyebrows that … did he even have to think about them?

Biting his bottom lip (horribly cracked, horribly swollen from a punishment involving the rolling pin), he closed his eyes and turned away, instead focusing his attention on the large pile of things that needed to be washed.

The Baratie closed at eleven every night and opened at ten in the morning. The cooks often left the Baratie at eleven forty-five, after giving Sanji his nightly punishment for being out waitering again. Zoro had kept to his promise and his constant visits were making Sanji suffer. He knew if anyone else were to cater to the swordsman, he would be thrown out in the blink of an eye and he wanted him to keep quiet. He wouldn't dare let himself think that he enjoyed playing mind games with him as the Marimo played Twenty Questions. 

At three in the morning, Sanji was putting away the last of the dishware and was beyond exhausted. He was surprised he managed to get up every morning and serve the customers as he did. Patty had come to allow it, but that meant that Sanji acknowledged that he was to be severely punished each night, at least three times harder than before Zoro started his nightly rendez-vous. 

Stupid fucking Marimo, causing him trouble even when he wasn’t there.

The steak knife slipped out of his hands at the last second, slicing his finger harshly. He stared at the blood as it trickled down his finger slowly. Turning over his finger, he stared at it, as though entranced by the colour, watching it as it stained his pale skin. It had been a while since he had bled externally. 

Staring at the knife on the countertop, he saw the small blotch on the counter of his blood.

Rolling up his sleeves, Sanji stared at his wrists. They healed each and every time, but the small white scars were a reminder of what he had done. Now that he thought about it, since Zoro had started coming by, he hadn’t been thinking about it nearly as much. 

Sanji smiled bittersweetly. It didn’t reach his eyes.

Maybe that Marimo _was_ good for something.

After wiping the blood off the knife, he put it away. He wiped the counter clean and with that, shut the lights in the kitchen and made it a few steps into the dining hall before he fell asleep on the floor.

* * *

When Sanji woke up, it was dark.

Of course it was dark. The cooks hated sunlight and acted like vampires. They shut the curtains and with the lights off in the dining hall during the night and Sanji’s exhaustion the night before, it was no wonder it was pitch black.

Sanji felt around blindly for something to grab onto. His hands found a chair and using it, he pushed himself up onto his unsteady feet. The room spun around him, probably from lack of sleep, and he forced himself into the kitchen. Turning back on the lights, he prepared the soup for the day, trying his hardest not to fall asleep into the pot.

When the other cooks came in, it didn’t take them long to wreck the hard work Sanji had put into the cleaning the night before. They were careless and enjoyed throwing things around, using unnecessary dishes just to make more work for him at night. 

Like every day, he felt as though the rough start to his day was an omen from above of how horrible the rest of his day would be.

* * *

One thing he could count on Roronoa Zoro being besides annoying was punctual. It was a surprise to learn that the green-haired Marimo wasn’t as scatter brained as Sanji thought despite the fact that he couldn’t tell the difference between a shrimp fork and a salad fork (honestly, who didn’t know the difference?). Zoro never failed to walk into the Baratie at eight thirty every night, sit down at his table, order water and then spice things up with a different appetizer and main course every time. 

Sanji still remembered what Zoro had told him the day they made their deal.

_“I don’t really make that much and besides, I have to keep bailing my friends out of jail so with those fees and all—”_

Sanji chuckled to himself at the memory. So Zoro was friends with troublemakers, was he? Well, it made sense that a reckless man had reckless friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found out Zoro had a bounty on his head.

A few days after Zoro had begun to come to the restaurant nightly, Sanji had decided it was important to know all he could about his customers, especially the customer that was practically blackmailing him. He had searched Zoro up on the internet and the results had been interesting.

He was a three-time Kendo champion and placed second worldwide, only to be outdone by some man named Mihawk. He was said to have a love for sake and enjoyed meditation. He was a kenjutsu prodigy and martial arts were said to be a hobby of his. That was about all the Internet knew about the great Roronoa Zoro. He didn’t speak much during interviews and liked to keep to himself. He stayed out of the tabloids and the press seemed to think fondly of him (not that Sanji did much more than skim through the articles, after all, they could be nothing but lies, couldn’t they?), so Sanji had come to the conclusion that having Roronoa Zoro as a client at the Baratie wasn’t a crime against humanity and no horrible gossip or rumours should spread from his nightly visits.

For some reason that he wouldn’t let himself think about too much, Sanji found himself looking forward to Zoro’s visits. He was certainly a different kind of customer than the usual clientele. He would make a ruckus, some way or another, making the entire restaurant fall silent before he sent the others a death glare and continued on eating. It was entertaining to say the least.

Sanji sucked it up the whole day from Mr. Motzel asking him about their wine to Fullbody bringing in Moodie and mistreating her. He handled it all with grace as far as he was concerned until Zoro came.

If another waiter were to pay attention to Sanji, they would notice a change when eight thirty came around.

Sanji stood tall and straight with a firm grip on his tray at all times. He flashed phoney smiles and kept a straight face, always being polite and never missing a beat. When Zoro walked through the doors, looking confused as he always did (something to do with his horrible sense of direction, as far as Sanji was concerned), Sanji would drop whoever he was serving at the moment and rush to Zoro. Of course he wasn’t careless. He didn’t just leave his tray behind as he pranced over to the reception desk; no, he kindly told the clients that he had elsewhere to be for a few moments and then he went prancing over to the reception desk. He would deny the prance, but one of the waiters had seen him at it once. 

Once. But once was enough when you worked at the Baratie. And that one time that they saw him happened to be the reason why Sanji’s life just got harder.

* * *

“Mr. Roronoa, your usual table, I assume?” Sanji said as he lead the way to the Marimo’s usual seat. It wasn’t as though he would suddenly change it; after all, he had asked for the table in the first place. 

Zoro gave him a nod and as usual, the under-dressed swordsman took his seat. Tonight he wore a plain white shirt with a pair of black pants with sneakers. Only Zoro would walk into a fancy, high-class restaurant and decide that sneakers were appropriate footwear.

“Thank you, Cook,” he said with a wink.

Sanji would never admit it, but the fact that Zoro always remembered his position in the kitchen pleased him immensely.

“Water?”

“Am I getting that predictable?”

Sanji would also never admit that he felt the strongest urge to smile genuinely around the swordsman. If he ever did confess to it, it would surely inflate the Marimo’s already big ego. No doubt the trophies and medals were already enough to feed it.

“You? Predictable? Never.”

Sanji handed him the menu and Zoro frowned, flipping through it. “I don’t know why you bother now a days,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized this thing.”

Sanji smirked. “Well, it’s customary for me to give it to you. Remember, you’re no different from the average client.”

But he was. And Sanji would never say it to his face.

“I think I’ll have … Kaiseki Ryori. It was good the last time,” Zoro noted, his eyes glazing over as he remembered it.

Even if Zoro didn’t know it, he was doing wonders for Sanji’s self-esteem, the way he practically had an orgasm every time he ate one of Sanji’s meals had the blond running in circles, wondering what spices to use next to tantalize the swordsman’s tastebuds. Of course, soon after he thought of such things he would remind himself that Zoro was not the only customer at the Baratie and should not receive any special treatment. Still, Sanji felt as though his dishes kept getting better the more Zoro ate them.

“Of course. And for your appetizer?”

“Tamago egg,” Zoro decided, closing the menu with a grin on his face. “You gonna cook it well, I hope, Curlicue?”

Sanji gave him a smile, one that was probably the closest to sincere he had ever given. “Don’t I always?”

Zoro laughed and shooed him away, telling him to prepare his meal and hurry; he had a tournament tomorrow.

* * *

When the Baratie was cleared and they were close to closing time, Sanji entered the kitchen with a few empty glasses. He was humming as he did so to no particular song, when he bumped into Patty.

Instantly, his good mood was gone. The glasses crashed to the floor, breaking into thousands of pieces and he knew instantly he’d have to clean them up. Today hadn’t been as bad as he had thought it would be, but trust Patty to ruin a perfectly decent day in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry,” Sanji said, bending over to pick up the broken glass.

 _SMACK_!

Instantly, Sanji lurched forward when the spatula made contact with his ass.

He was pulled up by the back of his collar to come face to face with Carne, who was grinning with a far too evil gleam in his eye. “Did you like that?” he asked, snarling.

Sanji couldn’t find words so he opened his mouth and closed it like a gaping fish. What was going on?

“Does Roronoa do this to you?” demanded Patty, smacking him once more, harder this time.

“Roronoa?”

Zoro? What were they talking about Zoro for? What did Zoro have to do with this?

“Strip him.”

It was the only warning Sanji got before the other cooks began to grab at his clothes, pulling at his shirt and his pants, yanking at his tie and his blazer. He felt his knees give in and he fell to the floor, hearing the fabric tear. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out what was going on. 

Sanji tried to fight them off, but they were too strong and it had been a long day and he hadn’t eaten enough, and he was just so _tired_ of everything. “Fucking bastards,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t fucking touch me!” 

Carne grabbed the spatula from Patty and smacked him again, this time across the face. Sanji’s cheek stung horribly but he bit his lip and refused to cry. Of course, the cooks were bastards, that he already knew, but were they really going to—?

“Open your mouth.”

Sanji shook his head.

“I said, open your fucking mouth, whore!”

Sanji bit down on his cheek, ready to draw blood. He wouldn’t. His bones ached, his body was exhausted, but he was going to be damned if he took this sitting.

“Open his mouth.”

Rough hands grabbed at Sanji’s jaw, forcing it open. He bit at them, but that didn’t stop them.

Patty dropped his pants and took out his length in his hand. He pushed Sanji down with the weight of his hand, forcing him onto his knees, and forced his member into Sanji’s mouth.

“Suck, bitch,” he commanded. 

Sanji shook his head. It was disgusting, he felt like he was choking, he hated this, he wouldn’t do it.

_SMACK!_

The spatula hit him harshly in the rear and he was forced forward, his mouth widening more and taking in more of Patty. “I said suck, slut! Suck me like you do that Roronoa bastard.”

Sanji tried to pull away, to get off of him, but Patty gripped his head harshly and forced him to take him. “Suck my cock, whore!” He started to push his way into Sanji’s mouth and the blond gagged.

He was choking. He felt disgusting and wrong and he didn’t know what to do. 

He was trapped. The other cooks were on his heels, stopping him from standing, some were holding his arms behind his back. He didn’t know what would happen if he defied Patty and with Sanji nude and defenceless, Patty had the upper-hand.

“Fucking suck me, before I make you!”

Sanji bit his dick.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” Patty grabbed the back of Sanji’s head and forced him to take all of him. The blond couldn’t breathe, the air wasn’t reaching his lungs, he couldn’t … there was no way, he was going to die. Patty thrust into his mouth, while holding onto his hair so much, he felt like he was pulling it out. Every time Sanji tried to breathe, Patty would force himself back in with full strength. His hip bones were hitting Sanji’s face and it hurt and he hated it and he couldn’t— he just _couldn’t_. 

“Oh look! The slut’s crying!”

Fuck them, he wasn’t crying. He wasn’t sad. He was fucking _pissed_. He was frustrated and so, so _angry._ How could they do this to him? He knew they didn’t like him, but this? Was this really happening? He couldn’t breathe, it was making his eyes water and his rage was driving him. He felt helpless and he hated it. He bite down but Patty ignored him, and instead forced himself fully into his mouth again.

“Use your tongue, cocksucker,” Patty commanded.

Sanji shook his head—

_SMACK!_

“I said _use your tongue_!” Patty declared. “Suck me, or is my cock not good enough when compared to Roronoa’s?” The mention of Zoro’s name made Sanji grit his teeth in anger. There they went again, throwing around Zoro’s name. “Fuck, are you a moron? Use your teeth again, and I’ll knock them all out of your little mouth! Carne, spank him good for me!”

_SMACK!_

_SMACK!_

_SMACK!_

In the instant he had to inhale, Patty slid in and out of his mouth with ease. He hated it. He felt sick. He wanted to curl up into a little ball and die.

“There we go,” Patty exclaimed. “That’s a good cocksucker!”

Suddenly, Sanji felt a pain in his ass. Instantly, he froze. No. They couldn't do this, they _couldn’t_! 

“Fuck, he’s tight!”

Sanji wanted to hit something. He was losing feeling in his body, becoming numb. There was a searing pain that shot through him and he couldn’t. He didn’t even know what he couldn’t do anymore, he just felt he couldn’t go on, not like this. 

He moved like a rag-doll, unable to fight it anymore, too frustrated to stop the tears, too numb to feel anything. He was limp, and certain he would pass out.   

With each thrust, Carne forced Sanji’s body to jerk forward with his force. He fell onto Patty’s cock and the cook seemed to enjoy it. He was gripping Sanji’s hair tightly, swearing profanities loud enough that Sanji was sure the shop across the street heard.

_No. No one should hear this. This is my humiliation, it can’t leave this room! I can’t … they can’t …_

“He’s sucking me in, Patty!” declared Carne. “I think I’m going to blow my load!”

_NO!_

It was too late. Sanji could feel the cum as it dripped out of him, soaking his thighs. He felt dirty. He felt used. He felt … he felt like a whore. Like an object. He was hurt, he was in pain and the stink of Carne’s cum made him dizzy with illness. 

“Have him suck you,” said Patty. “Should get you right back up. I’m gonna have a turn at him.”

Sanji bit down harshly. He could taste blood. He was sure he was bleeding, in numerous places. The taste was metallic and he hated it. 

The two of them switched places and Sanji felt like he was being split open. He nearly cried out in pain, but Carne was forcing his dick into his mouth so he couldn’t utter a sound.

“What would Roronoa say if he could see his bitch now?” demanded Patty, smacking him harshly. “Fuck, I’m not even a homo and this is better than any woman I’ve ever had!” His thrusts were even harsher than Patty’s, the sound of flesh against flesh resonating throughout the kitchen, echoing off the walls.

_Roronoa’s bitch? I’m not … THE BASTARDS!_

The realization struck him and if Sanji hadn’t felt murderous before, he did now. He couldn’t do anything about it, left in such a vulnerable position, but God did he want to hurt them. He was in so much pain, he saw white but the worst thing was a second later when Patty pushed into him even faster and he felt nothing. He was numb. They had fucking numbed him.

“Oh shit, he’s bleeding!” came a cry from somewhere. 

Patty smacked him harder. “Got fucking blood all over the floor. You gonna clean that up, Shit Cook?” he demanded, spitting at him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Patty declared. “Right in your fucking ass! It’s okay,” Patty said in a voice that sounded far too mocking to ever be sincere, “You can just close your eyes and pretend it’s your beloved Roronoa, eh, Shit Cook?”

Though he couldn’t feel anything in his ass anymore, he could feel the mix of cum and blood as it trickled down his thighs. His legs were free though so he twisted as best as he could and kicked. Patty laughed and grabbed his legs, forcing him into a contortion. “Anyone want to take him deep?”

Another cook stepped up and shoved themselves into Sanji, deeper than the others. He choked on Carne, and whined. He couldn’t. He had to be quiet. He couldn’t sink any lower. 

It felt like forever but when they finished, they told him to clean up his mess and shut the Baratie door closed.  

Sanji lay in the middle of the kitchen floor, covered in cum and blood. 

He didn’t fucking care anymore. 

They had officially taken everything. Everything he ever had, it was gone. His pride, his dignity, and his …

Sanji didn’t want to think about that and instead crawled across the floor towards the array of kitchen knives. It hurt, moving his body, his whole self ached in pain and protested against every movement.

So long … it had been so long …

Taking one, he slashed it down harshly against his wrist. The blood mixed with the blood on the floor and Sanji could practically taste it on his tongue. The line was harsh and rash, long going diagonally from his wrist. He hadn't hit a vein, but somewhere in his mind, he wished he had.

Let him bleed out to death. Let him lie here, tangled in the blood, cum and sweat. Let him die here, let him perish here and escape this hell.

He wanted to make another cut, to end it all, but his vision was too blurry with all the tears. The knife missed its mark and fell out of his grip, flying across the room instead, hitting the pantry. Curling himself into a ball against the cool floor and the cupboard, he couldn’t move. Every part of him hurt. He tried to keep his eyes open, he couldn’t stand the dark. He wanted to get out of the kitchen itself, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to crawl out. He must have broken something, his body stung and his chest felt too tight and he couldn’t do anything but stare at the blood and semen on the floor, his ripped clothes laying strewn on the floor. 

The blazer Zeff had gotten for him was stained.

God, _Zeff_.

Zeff could never know about this.  

* * *

The next night, Sanji was serving again. 

He had cleaned up the kitchen, been sore all day and had contemplated throwing himself out the top story window. At least that way he would never have to go through such a horrible experience again. But he was still there, still serving, still faking smiles. 

When eight thirty came around, he walked to Zoro with a little less of a spring in his step than usual.

An irrational part of his mind told him that it was Zoro’s fault. They had kept mentioning him while they were … Sanji couldn’t even think about it. Instead, he shivered and got Zoro to his seat, gave him his usual water and went to place his order.

The moment he walked into the kitchen, he was bombarded by the names. 

Slut.

Whore.

Bitch.

Cunt.

Cocksucker.

He ignored them, but he felt his rage building inside of him. A nausea overtook him so he spent as little time as he could inside. He had to keep going with his life, it wouldn’t wait for him to get his shit together. Even if he never got it together, he had to pretend he did. It should be easy. He was used to faking it. 

 Entering the dining hall once more, he was paranoid. Did they know? He felt as if everyone knew. He knew he walked with a limp, it was impossible not to notice it. They must all know. 

He was bruised, his body was sore, he ached everywhere, but he put on his smile. If his façade cracked a little, then he deserved it, he had been through hell. 

No one knew. No one _fucking knew_ so they kept going on with their lives like they normally would. Which begged the question: would anyone care? If anyone knew about what had happened to him the night before, would they care? Would they care that he had been raped on the kitchen floor? Would they care that he had bled? Would they care that blood had been spilt, not only because of them, but because of his own self-inflicted pain? Would they care that Sanji was no longer a pure soul? Would they care—

Sanji stopped himself and gave an answer to all these questions at once.

No.

They wouldn’t care.

Because no one cared about Sanji. No one _gave a damn_ whether or not he bled, no one cared whether or not he had been forced to take it up the ass, no one cared if he couldn’t hold a knife properly because it still hurt, no one cared if he had scars because all anyone ever cared about was whether or not there was food on their plate.

Everyone could pretend all they wanted, they could put on false faces and act like everything was perfect. It wasn’t hard to fake a worried expression. It wasn’t hard to pretend that you cared. It wasn’t hard to fake a sympathetic glance. It wasn’t fucking hard to pretend that someone actually _mattered_.

 _Because human beings are selfish people,_ Sanji thought. _Human beings only care about themselves. It’s all about self-preservation because when it comes down to it, no one fucking cares about anything except whether or not_ ** _they’re_** _okay. No one ever asks you how you are because they are. It’s always to be polite. No one gives a damn if you’re okay. You say you’re fine because that’s what you’re supposed to say, what they want you to say, what they want to hear. Not because they care._

Sanji snapped.

When he approached Zoro with the check in hand, he watched as the green-haired man leafed through his wallet as usual with a bright smile on his face.

 **_He_ ** _probably doesn’t fucking care._

“You know, I won my competition today, cook.”

 _Of course._ **_You_ ** _won._ **_Your_ ** _competition._

“I actually thought I was in serious trouble there though, this guy I was fighting, he was pretty big.”

 _Yes._ **_You_ ** _thought._ **_You_ ** _were in trouble. The guy_ **_you_ ** _were fighting. It’s all about_ **_you_ ** _, isn’t it?_

Sanji gritted his teeth. He didn’t fucking know. He didn’t fucking know the hell Sanji had been through, even though it was _his fucking fault._ The bastard cooks probably would’ve left him alone had Zoro not been there. Had Zoro not been a client, had Zoro not fucking existed—

_THUD!_

Sanji didn’t know what happened. 

One moment Zoro was talking about the competition he had won ( _his_ fucking tournament, wasn’t it? All about _him_ , was it?), and then Zoro was on the ground, holding his cheek while Sanji stood over him, taking deep breaths. A strand of his hair fell into his eyes and Sanji’s foot made contact with the ground.

Fuck.

Zoro stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed at a loss for words and was desperately scrambling to form a sentence, but it was too late. Sanji realized what he had done and instantly ran into the kitchen.

The cooks had seen. He left Zoro there, dumbfounded and frozen. They were sneering.

“Lover’s quarrel?”

“Now Shit Cook, you don’t bring personal matters into the restaurant.”

“Roronoa’s gonna tie you up tonight, isn’t he? You gonna beg for forgiveness?”

He ignored all of their comments and instead went into the very backroom where almost no one went, pressing his back against the door.

Sanji wasn’t sure what he had with Zoro. Maybe it had been something bordering on friendship, maybe they had been nothing more than acquaintances, but whatever they had been, it was over now. 

_It’s better this way._

This way Zoro wouldn’t be disturbing the other customers. This way he didn't have to think of something witty to say in response to one of the swordsman’s quips. This way the cooks couldn’t give him grief about the Marimo. This way … this way …

This way no one would recognize he was a cook, not a fucking waiter. This way no one would moan in pleasure at the taste of one of his meals. This way no one would give him something to look forward to in his day. This way there’d be no one to call “Marimo”.

Sanji pulled his knees towards himself and closed his eyes.

Would anyone care if he drowned in his tears?

* * *

It happened again.

They were rough, they were merciless and there were six of them this time. He hadn’t cried in front of them, but he had wanted to. He wondered if they’d show him mercy if he displayed weakness but he knew the truth. They’d destroy him the moment they saw it. 

That night, Sanji collapsed in the kitchen, a knife in hand. He didn’t have the strength to hold back tears. He didn’t have the strength to stand. He didn’t have the strength to light another cigarette. He didn’t even have the strength to cut.

He wished he did though.

Because everyone cares once you’re gone. 

Every single fucking one cares.

Just for a moment.


	5. Don't Need A Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Physical and mental abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. We're coming down to the point where you know, things get fun. As in, Zoro's gonna do something soon. So ... yay. Also, edited the Christmas chapter ON Christmas. When I first wrote the story, I was writing about Christmas in mid-August so now it feels more seasonal.

There had to be a reason.

Zoro had never racked his brain so hard before, had never found a reason worthy enough for him to devote his full attention to it, other than his kenjutsu and martial arts that is. The cook had never caused Zoro’s head to spin so much— in fact, _no one_ had ever caused the swordsman’s head to spin as much as the cook had. Well, maybe _Her_ , but Zoro wasn't ready to think about that just yet.

Zoro knew Sanji. Or at least, he liked to think he knew Sanji.

The blond was not the type to go around kicking people in the head just because he felt like it. 

Zoro knew Sanji was sour. He wasn’t the happiest person and everything he did felt forced, but that was ordinary every day Sanji. Something must have happened to make him crack like that. No one woke up one day and decided to kick someone in the head, same way Zoro didn’t just pull his swords out on anyone just cause he felt like it.

At eight thirty, Zoro entered the Baratie as usual.

Instead of the blond, cigarette-smoking cook, he was greeted by a big man in a hairnet. The hairnet looked familiar to him. His name-tag read: “ _Patty_ ”. 

He followed the man silently towards his table and sat down, feeling strange.

It just didn’t feel right to be served at the Baratie by someone other than Sanji.

“What would you like to drink, sir?”

No Mr. Roronoa. Sanji knew he always ordered water. Sanji knew Zoro’s favourite colour was blue. 

Patty didn’t. 

When Patty spoke, he had a gruff voice. One that reminded Zoro strongly of an axe-murderer. It wasn’t the smooth baritone that Sanji had. There was no smell of nicotine sticking to this man’s clothes. There were no golden buttons on his jacket— _blazer_. It was called a blazer— Sanji was really rubbing off on him, wasn’t he? Zoro hadn’t even realized he depended on those types of things until they weren’t there.

“Um, pardon me sir, but—” _Pardon me?_ Zoro thought to himself. Dear God, he was starting to sound like Sanji! Shaking off the thought, Zoro turned to the waiter defiantly. “Where’s my regular?”

“Your regular?” echoed Patty.

Zoro nodded. “He’s blond, curly eyebrows? Wears his hair so that you can only see one of his blue eyes?”

Patty stiffened. “Ah. Him.” He frowned. “That waiter—”

“Cook,” Zoro corrected him before he could stop himself.

Patty’s frown deepened. “Roronoa Zoro, correct?”

Zoro stared at him. How did this man know his name? Then again, he was all over the newspapers with his recent win. “Yes,” he said slowly, cautiously.

“Well, that cook of yours is currently occupied with more … _pressing_ issues.”

Zoro didn’t trust the man. He abused Sanji; Zoro knew that. So why was he here? 

Sanji would, Zoro assumed, cater to clients in order to be away from the cooks whose darkness was veiled by those swinging doors. The abusers stood behind the kitchen doors like shadows on a child's bedroom wall, causing nightmares, hell, unrest, fear, but they never left the walls and when the sun came up the next morning, they were gone without a trace. Wasn't the dining hall Sanji's sun? Weren't the cooks shadows, unable to stand under the full blare of sunlight? How on Earth was Patty here? Unless the sun was eaten by the shadow by an eclipse, defeated by a strength greater than one can prepare themselves for. 

“I’ll have water.” He felt sick just speaking to a waiter who wasn’t Sanji. It was strange. In the many nights he had gone to the Baratie, he had never spoken to anyone other than Sanji. It felt weird, out of place and he didn’t like it.

Patty gave him a big, phoney smile and nodded. “Right away sir!”

His smile made Zoro’s stomach churn. While Sanji had a polite reservedness to him, this man was boisterous and fake. Everything this man did was for show, but while Sanji was fake, from his smile to his laugh, he threw in a genuine quip or some kind of _something_ that made him different.

He wanted to hear the strange “pardon” that never failed to come out of Sanji’s mouth. He wanted to hear “Mr. Roronoa”. He wanted Sanji to tsk while he took the few bills he had left out of his wallet.

_Oh, shit._

Sanji knew his method of payment, their way they had figured out together. This man didn’t.

After Zoro ordered his meal, he knew instantly that this wasn’t going to end well.

The restaurant had a tenser atmosphere than he’d like to admit and he couldn't help but watch this Patty’s every move as he walked around the dining hall.

Sanji would tease him about the menu. Pretend to be overly-polite, act as though the restaurant were even _more_ high-class than it already was. He had small habits Zoro had learnt to pick up on. The way he’d smoke a cigarette to only half of its full extent before switching to a new one. The way Sanji chewed on the tip of the cancer stick in thought … Zoro had never liked the smell of nicotine but now that it was gone it felt strange.

Being waited on by Patty was not nearly as pleasant as being waited on by Sanji.

Patty moved like a drunk elephant on roller-skates in a skating rink. Each step he took was loud and there was no grace behind it. Sanji had a finesse to his movements. Though they were calculated, they looked natural and he seemed to walk on air. This man suffocated the very oxygen Zoro breathed.

Once his check came, Zoro knew he had a problem. This couldn't end well. Only he and Sanji knew about the arranged method of payment. Since Sanji didn’t want Zoro talking about his injuries and the like to others, it was no doubt that he had never discussed Zoro’s way of payment with anyone. 

“The check, sir,” said Patty, handing it over.

Zoro winced, looking down at the bill. 

150 00 yen.

_Fuck, that’s a lot!_

“Um, sir,” Zoro said slowly, trying to find the right words to speak. “The thing is, there’s a bit of a … complication, I suppose I could call it, about my payment.” How did he bring up his lack of money to the man without telling him about their deal?

“Complication?” repeated Patty. It was clear that he didn’t like that word. “What’s complicated about it?”

“You see, my regular and I had a … an _arrangement_ and since I didn’t know he wouldn’t be here, I didn’t exactly come prepared, per see.” 

Patty got red in the face, his fists clenching. They were large and meaty and Zoro wondered if Sanji had ever been struck by Patty’s bare hands. The thought alone gave Zoro the unpleasant picture of Sanji’s bones shattering upon impact.

“An arrangement?” Patty had an evil look in his eye. “Oh, I understand. Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, is there?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully in a way that looked far too menacing to be legal. “How about you give me what you usually give him and we’ll call it fair?”

Zoro didn’t feel comfortable handing over the contents of his wallet to this man. He had about 135 00 yen, so he’d be short by about 15 00 yen. He always came up short by at least 20 00 yen so this was a new record but still, he got the feeling the man wouldn’t take kindly to being underpaid. Patty reminded Zoro of the kind of people who would ransack the cash register once the boss was gone and then proceed to bathe in their not-so-well-deserved earnings.

Hesitantly, Zoro began to empty out his wallet, not looking at the man. He didn’t want to know what Patty’s opinion of him was— the nearly broke swordsman spending all of his cash on a meal that hadn’t tasted nearly as good as it did when Sanji was around— and he left his money on the table before getting up and putting on his jacket.

“Is that all?”

Zoro frowned. “What do you mean?”

Patty sneered. “You’re not going to …” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, won’t you settle for me?” Patty asked, batting his eyelashes.

Zoro grit his teeth. He wasn’t sure what Patty was suggesting, but he didn’t like it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s the restroom?” Sanji had to be here, he didn’t seem like the kind of person who got days off and if he truly was a cook then surely he’d be in the kitchen, right?

Patty sneered at him. “Over there, sir. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Zoro saw the look in his eye, despite trying to avoid it.

Zoro headed in the general direction of the bathroom. Once he was out of Patty’s sight, he made a sharp turn to the right and pressed himself against the kitchen doors. He could hear the loud noises of the clashing pots and pans, but he kept quiet. Last time he had come around here, Sanji had been being abused. What would he find this time?

Slowly, he pushed against the doors and the sounds of the kitchen amplified before going quiet.

“Is that—?”

“I think so.”

“Heh, Roronoa was dissatisfied?”

Zoro didn’t know how these people knew about him or his relation to Sanji, but he blocked them out and instead headed towards a short looking man who seemed to be snickering in joy. “You,” he said, pointing at him.

“Me?” 

“Yes, you, the cook with the dumb expression on your face,” Zoro clarified. They all looked stupid, to be honest. “Where’s the blond cook with the screwed up eyebrows?”

The cook leered, his lip curling. “Oi! He wants to know where Shit Cook is!” 

“Tell him Carne,” said one of the cooks, “the bastard could use a little breaking in, eh?”

The cook, whose name Zoro figured had to be Carne, turned to him. “Alright, I’ll tell you where your little Shit Cook is. But let me tell you this first: he ain’t as tight as he was before.” Carne let out a loud laugh that sent chills down Zoro’s spine. He slapped Zoro on the back before saying, “he’s in the backroom,” and pushed the swordsman forward into a room with a swinging door.

The room was small and cramped, most probably for inventory. It didn’t take long to spot the blond, standing among large bags of potatoes and other fruits and vegetables, flour, sugar and salt and other packages that Zoro couldn’t even begin to guess contained. 

The quiet sound of a knife on wood met his ears.

Standing in the dimmest area of the room, he realized Sanji didn’t know he was there. He watched the cook’s back as his shoulders moved, the rapid sound of the knife on the cutting board echoing through the silent space. This had to be the first time Zoro had ever seen Sanji cook. It was … Zoro couldn’t find words for it, but he found that Sanji looked better cooking than any pretty lady on those dumb cooking shows. 

The chopping stopped, replaced by the gentle plop of items being placed into a boiling pot. He could hear it bubble.

Zoro tried to think of what to say to make his presence known. As amazing as it was to watch Sanji cook, he knew he had to let the blond know he was there, but he couldn't find words. They were stuck in his throat as he watched Sanji move around the small space as though it were his battlefield, the same way the arena was Zoro’s. 

Zoro’s real home was always in the ring, when he was happiest was with adrenaline pumping through his veins, blood pulsating in his ears. Sanji was at ease, but it wasn’t right. There was a tension that shouldn’t be there. It was like Sanji’s home, his sanctuary, had been invaded. He walked and maneuvered around with grace, but there was a limp in his step, he couldn’t stand up straight. 

The smoke filled the room and Zoro could see there were plenty in the trashcan. Sanji was burning through cigarettes like he was running out of air.

Zoro was trying to think of something to say to make his presence known, but before he could think of anything—

“Why are you here?”

Zoro jumped in surprised. His back hit the wall and some flour which had been on the shelf above him fell, spilling onto the floor. He heard a sigh from Sanji’s direction while Zoro tried to stand up between having a coughing fit and trying to see through the cloud of flour.

“Marimo, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The swordsman groped at the wall to find his way back into a standing position, hitting the light by accident. The light from Sanji’s cigarette filled the room and Zoro could see him so clearly. He was tired, hadn’t slept in days, and his lip was trembling. He moved quickly to Zoro’s side, hitting the lights back on quickly.  Zoro reached out for him, but Sanji recoiled and bent down to clean up the flour. He wasn’t right, his legs were trembling under his own weight. 

“Is there any reason in particular you’re here?”

Zoro wanted to ask Sanji so many things. How had he known Zoro was there? Why hadn’t he been in the dining hall? Were Patty and that Carne person forcing him to stay here? When was the last time he had gotten a full-night’s sleep? Was he okay? What had been up with him last night? Why had he kicked him? What was his reasoning? Were things at the Baratie becoming worse? Was Zoro causing problems for him, accidentally? Why had the cooks known about him? What had Carne meant by “tight”? And the biggest question ringing in his mind: _what the fuck was going on?_

Instead of saying any of these things, he looked Sanji dead-straight in the eye and said, “I’m a valued customer.”

Sanji let out a hollow laugh. “How could I forget? My memory must be getting bad.”

Zoro shook his head, trying to untie his tongue. “No wait, that’s not what I meant. I swear, there’s a reason I’m here.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow as though to challenge his words. 

“It’s just … I’m here cause … I mean …”

_Fuck, Zoro, use your words, it’s not that damn hard!_

“What are you making?” he asked instead, wanting to hit himself. This was like asking Sanji about himself all over again. He had a vague idea of what he wanted to say but when he opened his mouth, all the wrong words came out.

“Soup.”

“Your famous soup?” Zoro asked.

“And if it is?”

This was going nowhere. 

“Look, why weren’t you in the dining hall?” Zoro asked. When he tried small talk, he failed and when he got to his point, he sounded like some kind of killer, demanding answers from his hostage.

“Didn’t feel like it.” Sanji turned away from him, giving up on the flour. He continued to stir the pot, though Zoro got the feeling the pot no longer needed it. Especially since the stove had been turned off as of when Zoro fell.

“Bullshit.”

“Language, Mr. Roronoa.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Sanji turned to him sharply and stared at him with an icy blue eye. “I’m not lying.”

Zoro met his gaze fiercely. “Tell me, why weren’t you in the dining hall? What’s going on?”

Sanji bit his bottom lip and turned his head away.

“Look at me!” 

Sanji flinched, backing away from him.

Zoro’s stomach dropped out from him, feeling as though a bucket of cold ice had just been dumped on him. Had he just raised his voice? The way Sanji was backing away towards the hot stove, his fingers dangerously close to touching it, made him freeze. Did Sanji prefer being burnt to talking to him?

Zoro shook his head. He had to do this right. He had no idea how to act around Sanji at the moment. To treat him like a wounded animal would be an insult to his pride, obviously, but to say things carelessly as he just did would help him make no further progress than if he treated Sanji like an ordinary person he met on the street. Sanji wasn’t just some stranger. He cared for Sanji as much as a swordsman can care for a cook whom they blackmailed— probably a bit more than that, now that he thought about it.

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said. “I just … my friends say I have some anger issues. Look, I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to talk—”

“Because you’re clearly doing _so well_ with that.”

Zoro hated to admit it, but the blond had a point. “Let me start over then, okay? I just want—”

“Why do you care?” 

Zoro stared at Sanji, open-mouthed. 

The look in the cook’s eye was … Zoro couldn’t describe it other than it felt like looking at cracked glass. No, more like bruised glass. An ice rink after plenty of hockey players had skated across it, the blades each leaving jagged lines, firm and smooth, but rough and harsh at the same time. Like a Zamboni was gliding across the rink in an attempt to repair it and relieve all of those faint scars to make the rink anew, and it broke down half-way through the job. Like the world wouldn’t let the ice start fresh, like the _ice_ didn’t want to start over.

Faint white scars …

Zoro grabbed Sanji’s arm. His grip was tight enough so that Sanji couldn’t escape, but he made sure his hands weren’t too rough when he pulled Sanji’s left arm towards him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Sanji snapped, trying to fight against his grip. He twisted his arm in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

“Stop moving,” Zoro insisted. “This’ll only take a moment.” Pulling up the cook’s sleeves, he let out a gasp.

An assortment of jagged lines, white and faint— but no. There was a nasty red one that was longer, sharper and more recent.

“What the fuck?” 

Sanji pulled his arm violently out of Zoro’s grasp the moment his grip loosened form his shock.

Sanji turned away from him and pulled down his sleeve harshly, so much so that the shirt was tilted and threatened to fall off his left shoulder. The extra fabric was fisted in his hand and his eyes were downcast. “I told you, don’t touch me.”

“But—“

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not fucking nothing,” Zoro said. “Are you …” He lost his voice, staring at Sanji. His throat was dry and he couldn’t seem to muster up words, couldn’t find the strength to do it. “Did you do this to yourself?”

Sanji lifted his head up towards the ceiling, avoiding Zoro’s eyes. He seemed to be counting the cracks in the ceiling tiles. There were bruises on his neck, handprint marks on his pale skin. Zoro felt sick to his stomach, waiting for Sanji’s answer.  

“And if I did?”

Zoro shut his eyes tightly to stop himself from doing something rash. He took a few deep breaths, trying to cool himself down. How could Sanji …? Was life so meaningless to him? 

“What does your life mean to you? If that cut had been just a tad deeper …” Zoro trailed off, not wanting to think about it.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Like that matters—”

“ _It does so fucking matter_!” 

Sanji backed away from him when Zoro’s voice raised, but Zoro took his arm before he could get very far. 

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me kick you again, Marimo!” 

Zoro shook his head. He tightened his grip and Sanji winced. He moved where his fingers were, trying to put as little pressure as possible on the scars. “I’m not letting you go, not until you talk to me! For fuck’s sake, Sanji, you can’t just — what?”

“You …” Sanji licked his lips dryly and Zoro’s eyes followed his tongue as it moved across his cracked lips. “You said my name.”

Had he?

“So?” He had been pressing the cook for over a month to call him by his first name, what was the big deal in Zoro calling him by his?

“You’ve … you’ve never done that before.”

A silence fell between them. Zoro’s grip loosened on Sanji’s arm, but Sanji didn’t pull away, merely stared at him, as though dumbstruck at the sound of his own name, like he had never heard it before. 

“SHIT COOK!”

Sanji’s eyes widened and he quickly pulled his arm out of Zoro’s lax grip. “You have to go.” 

“What? No! I’m just starting to make a break through here—”

“No, you _have_ to go.”

“We still need to talk,” Zoro insisted, “there are so many things you still haven’t told me and—”

“That can wait for later,” Sanji told him, “right now you need to leave!”

“It can’t wait till later, later you won’t want to talk to me like this and I’ll have to start all over! I’m not moving—”

“Zoro.”

Immediately, Zoro froze. His concentration slipped at the sound of his first name coming from the lips of the cook, sounding almost like a plea. He stared at Sanji, dumbstruck himself. 

“Zoro, _please_.”

Zoro didn’t even acknowledge that he was being pushed out the door until he was back in the main kitchen and the loud sounds of cooking met his ears. He could see the large man, Patty, walking in through the large swinging doors. Immediately, he crouched himself low, trying to hide in a corner. 

There was something more going on here, something Sanji wasn’t telling him and he had to find out. If this Patty person realized he was in the kitchen, Zoro got the strong feeling he’d be forced out so he had to stay hidden until he saw Patty enter through the doors to the backroom.

Zoro rushed to the backroom and kept his ear pressed against it. He wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, that much was obvious and he didn’t want to know what his friends would think if they knew he was doing this— he was usually the one telling them to stop being idiots, but Sanji had him doing all kinds of strange things he had never imagined himself doing.

“—on the floor?!”

There was no denying that nauseating voice. It was Patty.

“Sorry.”

That was Sanji. He sounded defiant, sarcastic. That was the Sanji Zoro knew.

“What’d you fucking say?” demanded Patty. “Are you mocking me?”

“No.” This time Sanji sounded solemn.

“So I’ll ask you again, who spilt the fucking flour?”

Zoro’s blood froze. Was Sanji going to get in trouble over something that was Zoro’s fault? He wasn’t sure he could stomach that.

“Take a guess,” came Sanji’s response.

“I guess it was the Shit Cook!” 

There was silence.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me! Know your fucking place. What, you think it could’ve been someone else? Has anyone else been back here?”

Silence.

And then—

“No.”

“So?” pressed Patty.

A beat.

“Say it louder.”

“I did it.”

“That’s right,” chuckled Patty. It made Zoro sick. “And you know what we do to those who lie?”

_SMACK!_

Zoro flinched at the mere sound. He heard a slight whimper which was stopped half-way through, probably Sanji biting his lip to keep himself quiet. 

“You know who I served today?”

Silence.

“I’ll tell you who. It was that fucking Roronoa. The bastard thought he could pay me and I wouldn’t notice the 15 00 yen he was missing! He said you had an arrangement. You give him a good blowjob as long as he gives you all of his money? Is that your arrangement? Is that how it works, you fucking slut?”

Sanji said nothing but Zoro felt sick.

The cooks, they thought … they thought …

Suddenly, what Carne said made more sense to him.

_He ain’t as tight as he was before._

Which meant … No. No, no, _nononono_!

Zoro felt his stomach churn. Sanji wasn’t the type of guy who— but that only made the facts worse. If Sanji wasn’t the type of guy to go around sleeping, then that would mean that they had …

_BANG!_

Zoro’s hands slammed down on the stainless steel. He could feel the smallest trace of blood trickle down his fingers. 

This couldn't be happening. Sanji's attitude the night before made sense now. The pain, God, the pain Sanji had been through … and that look on his face when Zoro had tried to start over—

_“Why do you care?”_

The way he had said it had made Zoro feel cold all over. It was as though Sanji had thrown words at him that Zoro hadn’t been expecting, as though Sanji had intended to cut him without a knife. 

Why did Zoro care? _Why did he care?_ He fucking cared because— fuck, he couldn’t think of a reason. Not a reason he was willing to voice anyway.

Fuck that, I don’t need a fucking reason.

The damn bastard clearly wasn’t going to help himself out of this mess, despite the fact that it looked like he was living in hell. If the idiotic cook wasn’t going to save himself, then Zoro was going to do it for him and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.


	6. A Much Needed Kidnapping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Let's start 2018 with something good, like a new beginning for Sanji? Hope you guys all had a good New Years.

Sanji opened his eyes blearily. There was too much light. It was too sunny.

Diving under the covers, he shielded his face with the warm blanket when he realized something.

It was sunny. There were covers and a blanket.

What the fuck was going on?

Sanji sat bolt up in bed— a fucking bed, _why the fuck was he in a bed?_ — and looked around him. 

He didn’t recognize his surroundings. He was on a large, king-sized bed covered in green sheets. The room had dark colours, different shades of grey and the pillows had green pillowcases.He clenched his teeth and realized there was no cigarette in his mouth. 

Okay, think Sanji, think. Where the fuck are you?

As far as he could see, he was in a bedroom with a large bed. The sheets had probably been recently cleaned and the room had dull colours. There sunlight was coming in from the window, the curtains drawn back. His blazer was laying over the back of a desk chair to his right. 

Suddenly in a panic, Sanji lifted the sheets and checked himself over. Other than his blazer and his shoes, he was wearing exactly what he remembered wearing before his memory seemed to have abandoned him. 

There was a giant full-length mirror opposite the bed, which Sanji quickly diverted his attention from.What else was in the room? Nothing else that seemed worth mentioning.

He could smell the fresh detergent of the sheets and steel and pine trees, along with something that reminded him of mint. Mint. Green. Sanji’s mind was too tired to make the connection. The faint smell of steam also reached him as well as something nauseating, drafting in from some unknown location.

The sheets felt warm, the pillows fluffy. It was uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being able to sink into fabric. There was too much space around him, too much room to move his body. Too many layers, he felt too hot.  

Something was cooking on the stove, what he didn’t know. There was a soft thud of feet on the ground, the chirping of birds— it seemed too serene to be real. Clearly he was hallucinating, wasn’t he? But then—

“FUCK!”

Was that …?

Sanji felt stupid. Green. Fucking green was around him and he couldn’t figure it out? The smell of steel, pine and mint. God, was he fucking braindead? 

Sanji pulled himself out of the bed, suddenly feeling rather cold. The wooden floorboards were fucking freezing on his feet. It shocked his system into gear. He had to get out of here. His balance was off, but he stumbled out of the room, following the scent of steam.

He entered a kitchen where Roronoa Zoro was standing in front of the stove, something boiling in a pot. That’s where that horrendous stench was coming from.

If he just snuck around him, he could get out without him noticing. The blond was about to put his tip-toe ninja-style out of here plan into action when—

“Hold it!” 

The swordsman’s voice stopped Sanji in his tracks, holding up a large spoon like a weapon. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out?”

“Take a seat.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Roronoa.” 

Zoro turned to him sharply.

Despite the situation he was in, in which he was certain he had been abducted, there was something inherently amusing about a big, muscular man like Zoro standing with an apron around his waist, holding a wooden spoon in one hand, a firm expression on his face. He placed both of his hands on his hips and Sanji bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The swordsman said nothing, just turned back around to the pot of evil and continued to stir. He pulled the spoon out of the pot and showed it to Sanji.

It looked like gunk. It looked like someone had put their boogers in muddy rain water and shook it and stirred it before deciding it looked too dreadful to be presentable and threw it into the trash. And then decided at the last minute that they had nothing else to serve.

“What is _that_?” asked Sanji, pointing towards the food imposture.

“Soup. You should know, shouldn’t you, Curly Brow?”

Sanji raised said curly brow. “In what country does that shit pass as food?”

Zoro gritted his teeth, obviously displeased with the cook’s reaction to the food. “Eat it.”

“No fucking way.”

“You are such a fucking brat, be grateful goddammit!” 

“Of what? Your attempt to poison me?”

“If you don’t eat this, I’m going to shove it down your throat.”

“I’ll file a lawsuit.”

“It’s not going to kill you—“

“Are you sure? Because that looks like the kind of stuff that causes quarantines— _OMPH_!”

It was dreadful.

They say that 90% of what you smell is what you taste. Sanji wished he had been born without a nose. He could try to describe the dreadful concoction that was probably some kind of secret military stink bomb, or some poison that had yet to be tested on humans, but he’d rather not. With absolutely no chance to block his nose, the full taste and smell of so called “soup” hit him full force. It felt weird on his tongue, kind of like what he imagined leather would taste like. And corduroy. There was a problem when food started tasting like textiles.

Sanji’s immediate knee-jerk reaction was to run to the sink and spit out the foul so-called “food”, but Zoro was looking at him expectantly, his arms folded, like he wouldn’t let Sanji go until he ate it. 

He closed his eyes and braced himself before forcing the lump down his throat, trying not to wince as he did. 

Zoro watched him.

Sanji regretted it instantly. He was certain he’d be retching it up later. Or now, if he thought about it too much. Zoro continued to stare at him so Sanji steadied himself, bracing one hand on the counter and tried to give him a smile. It was one of the most forced smiles Sanji had ever given and that was saying something. He gave Zoro a thumbs-up sign and the green-haired man just shook his head.

“You can spit it out,” Zoro told him. “I won’t be offended.”

_Oh really? Cause you looked like you were really awaiting praise._

Sanji shook his head. “Can’t.” His voice sounded weird to his own ears. Had that goop done something to his vocal chords?

“What, do you mean you can’t? Did it get stuck in your throat?”

Sanji shook his head again. “I swallowed it.”

“You swallowed it?”

Sanji nodded, thumping at his chest with a closed fist. “Yeah.”

 _“You fucking swallowed it?”_ Zoro repeated, flabbergasted. 

Sanji sighed. “Do I really have to repeat myself?” He felt wobbly on his feet and gripped the counter harder. “And it’s been decided. You’re not allowed in the kitchen ever again. It’s lethal.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “You know, you didn’t have to eat it.”

“You _shoved it down my throat_!”

“Well, you didn’t have to swallow it!”

“Of course I had to fucking swallow it, you damn Marimo, what choice did I have? Would you have preferred I spat it back out in your face?”

Zoro stared at him. He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then he started laughing.

Zoro’s entire body shook, one hand on his stomach, the other on the counter for support. The swordsman, for a reason Sanji couldn’t fathom, thought this was fucking hilarious. 

It was refreshing. Laughter without malicious intent, or ridiculing purposes was a rare sound to Sanji. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had heard such a genuine laugh was. Zoro laughed with complete abandon. He didn’t hold in anything, from the large gasps of air he took, to the snort that found its way out of his nose on the occasion. 

Sanji waited, a part of him desperately wanting to join in, but scared he had forgotten how.  It was a beautiful sound that was coming from the swordsman, but it was strange to his ears. A pleasant strange. When was the last time Sanji had laughed that freely? As though he had no cares in the world?

“You done?”

“Give me a second.”

Sanji waited.

Finally Zoro stood upright and, with a few deep breaths, seemed totally fine once more. His breathing returned to normal, but he was wiping away tears of laughter. When was the last time Sanji had cried for a reason other than pain? 

 _No_ , he told himself firmly, _going down that train of thought will only lead to more problems._

“Okay, now that you aren’t going to die from lack of oxygen,” Sanji said, the only hint of amusement found in the leer of his voice, “let’s get back to the matter at hand, shall we? Why the hell did you fucking abduct me?”

“I didn’t _abduct_ you, I was _saving_ you.”

“This is kidnapping! The cooks, they’re going to kill me! Fuck—” Sanji couldn’t hold in the shiver at the thought of what awaited him when he returned to the Baratie. Patty and Carne had found a new way to break him down and keep his entire body sore, a way that the other cooks seemed to enjoy far too much. 

“Hey, Cook,” Zoro said, grabbing Sanji’s shoulders, trying to stop Sanji from shaking. He flinched and thought he saw hurt flash in Zoro’s eyes. “Listen to me. Yes, _technically_ , I _did_ take you from your work without your _complete_ consent—”

“You know this is considered illegal, right?”

“Oh please!” Zoro rolled his eyes. “As if you wouldn't have run away at some point or another. I’m just giving you a head start. Look, if you stayed at the Baratie any longer, you’d have gotten yourself killed. Either by those cooks or by yourself and I don’t like the thought of you offing yourself.”

“You’d be the only one.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed in worry. “I was meaning to ask, but don’t you have any family? Surely your parents know the shit you’ve been through—”

“They’re dead.”

“W-what?”

Sanji took a deep breath and sighed. “They’re dead,” he repeated. “I want my cigarettes, Marimo,” he changed the topic quickly. “And I’ll be leaving once I get them.”

It seemed that Zoro wouldn’t be so easily distracted. “Before I help you give yourself lung cancer, I was wondering if you could tell me—”

“How they died?” Sanji cut him off. “Give me my cigarettes and I might tell you.”

Zoro sighed but he left the room to get Sanji’s cigarettes.

Sanji stood in Zoro’s kitchen and felt his knees about to buckle. He wasn’t with the cooks anymore, he was a chef, he couldn’t be scared of a fucking kitchen. He couldn’t. With trembling hands, his fingers ran over the surface of the counter. He wanted to clean it up, the insistent urge to get rid of the mess, before the spatula could come down struck him. He fisted his hand to stop himself from grabbing a cloth. No. He was above this.

Zoro came back with his blazer, tossing it to him and leaning against the counter, waiting. 

Zoro hadn’t touched Sanji’s pack. There were still the same amount of cigarettes as there had been before and his lighter was still in his pocket. Sanji took a cigarette and lit it up, taking a deep inhalation. His cloudy state of mind began to dissipate. “What made you think you could cook, eh, Marimo?”

Zoro looked the other way and Sanji vaguely remembered how Zoro still had a slight discomfort about his habit. Oh well. The man had abducted him, he'd have to deal with the consequences of having a smoker in his house. 

“I asked you a question first.”

Sanji shook his head. “I don’t see how my parents’ death is any of your fucking business.”

Zoro gave Sanji a sideways glance. “Did I bring back bad memories?”

“Nah, it’s been ages,” Sanji told him with a shrug. “It doesn’t really bother me to talk about it, but you know, it seems like you’re determined to find out everything about me all in one go.”

Zoro shrugged. “You’re … interesting.”

“Glad to know I’m entertaining.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“Interesting and entertaining mean the same thing in my book,” Sanji said. “Don’t worry though,” he added, “you’re plenty entertaining to me too.”

Zoro turned his head sharply. Was that a blush?

Sanji would’ve let out a laugh, if he remembered how. Flicking the remains of his cigarette down the drain, he took out another one. “So, how about you explain to me how this happened?” 

“Huh?”

“Don’t give me that. Obviously you kidnapped me against my will, but how’d you do it?”

Zoro stared at him sideways, tilting his head. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope,” Sanji replied, popping the p. He took a long drag of his cigarette before speaking again. “It’s like I’ve got amnesia or something. My head hurts. Did you force vodka down my throat or something else besides that terrifying slop?”

Zoro frowned. “You don’t have to be so cruel, I’ve never had to cook for anyone but myself—”

“Thank God for that.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “What does it matter if I can’t cook sashimi like you can?”

“I never said it mattered. You’re so touchy, Marimo.”

“I am not touchy!”

“Hmm, that sounded a tad touchy, didn’t it?”

“It did not!”

“Are you sure? I could record it and play it back for you.”

“Argh, you’re insufferable.”

“If I’m so insufferable, why’d you bother?”

The nice atmosphere disappeared in an instant. 

Sanji knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was his first normal conversation in God knew how long, but he had to bring it up. He couldn’t let himself get comfortable, and it was  a good way to remind himself that he wasn’t out of the woods yet, there were so many things he didn’t know.

“Because …” Zoro paused, choosing his words carefully. “I …” He turned away from Sanji and ran a hand through his moss hair before throwing his hands up in the air. “I did it cause I fucking could, okay?”

“Actually, considering the legal-ness of your actions, I beg to differ.”

Zoro growled and turned to Sanji.”I did it cause I fucking wanted to, is that what you want to hear?”

Sanji frowned. “But why would you want to?”

“Could you go five minutes without asking me a question?”

“Is it really the questions you don’t like, or the answers that you don’t have?” Sanji shot back. 

The swordsman stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Sanji nodded and put on his blazer. “As much fun as this has been, I have a job, which I have to get back to, so if you don’t mind— _HERK_!”

Sanji was pulled back by the collar of his blazer and smashed into Zoro, who stood firm, the way only a swordsman could. Sanji was pressed up against Zoro’s chest. He sprang away from the man as quickly as he could, practically climbing onto the kitchen counter. He put as much space as he could between the two of them and felt his neck. It hurt and he wasn’t sure if the bruises were gone yet.

Zoro took a step forward, but Sanji held out a hand, indicating for him to stop.

“Just, stay there,” he told him, trying to find his voice. He shouldn't be freaking out. He knew Zoro wasn’t the bad guy. He had done nothing wrong but Sanji got the feeling that any touch from anyone, no matter how kind, would make him feel repulsed, insignificant and want to curl up in a ball in the corner and bleed out. 

 _Happy thoughts, happy thoughts,_ he told himself, but with the memory brought to the forefront of his mind, Sanji couldn’t make himself think of better times, if they even existed.

“Sorry,” Zoro apologized after a few minutes of silence had passed between the two. “It’s just … I don’t want you working there. At least, not for a while.”

“Pardon?”

Zoro chuckled, as though this were something funny. “You’re overly polite, did you know?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Can you get to the fucking point already? Why can’t I go back to my job? Not all of us can be fucking kendo champions and make shitloads of money!”

“And yet you have the mouth of a sailor.” 

Sanji was starting to get really irritated with the green-haired man and he demonstrated his impatience by tapping his foot on the floor with aggravation.

“I think it’s best for the sake of your health and sanity that you stay with me for a while.”

“Stay with my fucking captor?” Sanji said incredulously. “Should I fear Stockholm syndrome?”

Zoro shook his head. “The Baratie isn’t a good environment, and I don’t want you to get anymore fucked up than you already are.”

“Oh gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What makes you think you’re any better than the cooks at the Baratie?” Sanji snapped, sending him a glare. “I know close to nothing about you. You’re a fucking enigma. You compete in kendo, you like meditation and apparently, enjoy having three holes in your ear, but are strictly against smoking. I know your whole life story,” he said sarcastically.

“Okay,” Zoro said. “Fair enough.” He took a step closer to Sanji, enough to make the blond back up into the counter even further on instinct, but he was still far enough away that if Sanji tried to run, Zoro would have trouble keeping up with him. “My name’s Roronoa Zoro. I’m twenty-two, soon to be twenty-three in about three months. My blood type is XF, I’m left-handed, my star sign is Scorpio, I had never tired sushi until I went to the Baratie. I practice Santoryu, I’ve stayed sober for almost two months now thanks to the Baratie and their fucking expensive drinks, my natural hair colour is green— don’t pretend you weren’t curious about it— and I have a slight scar on my cheek due to being kicked in the side of the face recently by an insane person who thinks black is a colour, when it’s clearly a shade. There, do you know enough?”

Sanji gaped at him.

It was clear that Zoro would not let him leave. Sanji found that instead of feeling angry and pissed, he was grateful that out of all the rogue kidnappers in Japan, he had been kidnapped by Roronoa Zoro. 

That didn’t mean he didn't still want to kick his ass to China, but it could've been worse.

Sanji sighed. “And what about me? What makes you so sure I’m not some French rogue whose MO happens to be facial bruises courtesy of my shoes?” 

Zoro smirked, crossing his arms. “ _Mange ta merde._ ”

Sanji gave him a blank look.

“Not French.” Zoro chuckled before taking a paper out of the bottom drawer of his cupboard. “You in the mood for Chinese?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, we’ve already established that I can’t cook, I’m holding you hostage and I highly doubt you want to feed the one who abducted you, so I figure we’ll resort to take-out.”

There were tons of questions left in Sanji’s mind.

Why was Zoro being so nice? How had he been abducted? Why couldn't he remember? What about his job at the Baratie? What did Zoro expect in return? What had the fucking bastard said in French that was so goddamn funny?

But instead of asking them, Sanji stored them away for another time and gave Zoro a smirk. “How about Italian?”


	7. In The Kitchen With Sanji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. I'm going away for a week so this is the last update until like, the 16th?

The first time Sanji woke Zoro up, Zoro thought the blond was dying.

It was two o’clock in the morning when he heard the screaming and ran out of his room, grabbed Wado from her usual place and rushed into the guest bedroom with his sword raised high, ready to strike. What the green-haired man came across was not an intruder as he had suspected, nor was it a murderer’s ghost who was hovering over the cook in his sleep (hey, it could happen!). What Zoro saw was worse.

Sanji lay tangled up in the sheets, sweat dripping down his forehead. He was kicking and tossing and turning while at the same time keeping his head and arms tucked into his chest, screaming at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t saying anything coherent, only letting out a blood curling cry that reminded Zoro of people’s last words before the guillotine took off their head. 

Zoro approached the bed slowly, keeping his sword raised just in case (after all, maybe Sanji was possessed— He was spending too much time with his idiot friends). He saw Sanji’s face scrunch up in pain, his clothes sticking to his body as the sweat came down. His usually neat-looking hair was a mess and falling into his eyes even more than usual.

Zoro reached out to brush aside Sanji’s bangs when—

_THUD!_

Sanji’s foot came out of nowhere and smacked Zoro right in the jaw. 

Zoro fell over, hitting the ground with a loud noise and then the bedside table’s lamp was on and Sanji was sitting up in bed, staring down at Zoro who lay on the floor with his sword.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” Sanji demanded. “What the fuck are you doing with a sword, Marimo? And why the hell are you in here?”

Zoro sat up on the floor. He didn’t remember the wood being this cold. “Me? What the fuck am _I_ doing? What the fuck were _you_ doing, screaming bloody murder?” 

Sanji went silent and bit his bottom lip. 

Zoro picked himself off the ground and dusted off his pants. He sheathed Wado and felt around his head, trying to see if he was bleeding. Though his jaw hurt, the impact of falling had hurt more. “You kick fucking hard, bastard,” Zoro told Sanji with a groan. It stung, but there didn’t seem to be any blood. The world seemed a bit unsteady though …

“I was … I was screaming?” 

Zoro looked over at Sanji who suddenly looked small. He had pulled his knees into himself and was gripping the sheets tightly. He was … he was _shaking_. 

Shit, Zoro had no idea what to do with a shaking man. 

He hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed. Was he supposed to talk in this kind of situation, or leave Sanji to his thoughts? Was he supposed to ask what the dream had been about? Zoro couldn’t remember how his mother had comforted him. In the past few months, his nightmares of _Her_ had started to disappear, but he never dealt with nightmares well without someone there. 

Zoro was contemplating whether or not he dared to open his mouth when he felt a sharp kick at his side.

Sanji was on top of the covers, sitting in front of him with his legs crossed but there was no doubt that had been Sanji’s leg. Zoro had become well acquainted with Sanji’s leg, far more than he was with Sanji himself. There was probably something wrong with that. 

“What the fuck, cook?”

Sanji clutched the sheets at his sides, bunching them up in his fists. He wasn’t looking at Zoro. In the dim light of the lamp, Zoro could see that Sanji hadn’t only been sweating, he had been crying too. His eyes were red and though Zoro was sure Sanji would deny it, there were tear-tracks running down his face. 

“Get me my cigarettes.”

“But—”

“ _Now_ , Marimo!”

Zoro pretended he didn’t notice the way it took Sanji four tries to light the damn thing with his trembling hands. The moment Sanji inhaled the smoke, it seemed as though he had calmed down at least a little.

Zoro stood up, about to leave —

“Oi.”

Zoro stopped and turned to see Sanji. His hand was outstretched, like he wanted to grab him, but he didn’t. The look on his face reminded Zoro of a child who had called to a parent only to have them turn around and realize they were a stranger. The blond’s hand fell limply at his side and he turned away. “Never mind.”

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay—”

“I said never mind!” 

Well that settled it.

Zoro sat down on the floor, placing his sword in his lap. He would leave later, when Sanji was calmer and able to go to sleep again. He should’ve predicted this type of thing. Sanji was a victim of trauma, nightmares and trouble sleeping came with the package. It wasn’t going to be easy to take care of him, especially since he was so stubborn, but he knew he’d do a better job than the cooks ever could. 

“Do you want me to close the light?”

“No.”

They plunged into silence.

“I’m not a baby.”

“I never said you were.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Who’s the baby now?”

Sanji scoffed.

“Are you going to try and sleep?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Zoro leaned against the bed, and drummed his fingers against the sheath of his sword. How many nights had he done this? Laid on the floor, just holding her, silent, in darkness?

“Is it too dark?” he asked.

“I’m not scared of the dark.”

“You’re jumping to a lot of assumptions, aren’t you, Curlicue?”

“Shut up.”

Silence again.

If he waited long enough, would Sanji fall asleep? He couldn’t predict how long it would take him. Zoro did need his own sleep, but it wasn’t really kendo season anymore so he didn’t need sleep as much as he did before. As he tried to calculate how long it would take for Sanji to reach dreamland, he got a poke in the shoulder courtesy of a foot.

“What?” he asked in a quiet voice. He didn’t know why he was whispering, it just felt like he should whisper.

“Entertain me.”

Zoro turned around and looked up at the bed in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I said, entertain me.” Sanji spoke as though he were talking to a two-year old.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“How am I supposed to fucking know? Do a dance, twirl around, sing a song or something,” Sanji said. “Fucking cook me something! I don’t care, just entertain me!”

It was then that Zoro realized what Sanji meant.

When he said “entertain” he didn’t mean he wanted Zoro to perform tricks for him like some animal from the circus. When he said “entertain” what he really meant was “distract”. And if in order to distract him Zoro had to act like a circus animal, Sanji didn't care, he just needed a distraction to get his mind off of that dream he had.

Zoro stood up and dusted off his pants, putting Wado on his shoulder. He knew better than to touch him now. Let Sanji initiate all contact. “Get out of bed.” 

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out.”

Sanji grabbed his cigarettes and hissed about the cold floor the whole way as Zoro led him to the kitchen. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Entertaining you.”

Flipping on the switch, the kitchen lit up. It was two in the morning. If Sanji wanted a distraction, the swordsman would give him one. One he could throw himself into entirely and forget the world.

Zoro turned to Sanji. “Teach me how to cook.”

“Pardon?”

There was that “pardon” again.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“T-teach you how to cook? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You said to entertain you,” Zoro said with a shrug. “So, are we going to do this or not?”

“What makes you think I can teach you? Marimo is supposed to _be_ cooked, not cook. You’re beyond help.”

Zoro grit his teeth. “What’d you say, bastard?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to teach someone how to cook when they don’t even know proper dining etiquette?” He sighed. “It’s not that hard either. _Itadakimasu_. Is that so hard to say?”

Zoro frowned. “Look, I’m doing this for your sake, Love Cook, so don’t try my patience like this!”

Sanji shook his head and tsked. He totally thought Zoro was a lost cause.

“I have fucking table manners, you ungrateful crotch rot!”

Sanji blinked. “Crotch rot?”

“My point is, I know dining etiquette—”

“Prove it.”

Prove it? He wanted him to _prove it?_ “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. He knew the cook wanted a distraction, but he didn’t have to be an asshole about it.

“Simple. You repeat after me.”

“Huh?”

“ _Itadakimasu_.”

There was silence.

The fucking bastard was waiting for him to say it. He actually expected Zoro to fucking say it. 

“I’m not going to fucking repeat after you, I’m not a fucking parrot!”

Sanji sighed and turned his back to Zoro. The green-haired man did not miss the mumbled “hopeless” that came from the cook’s mouth.

“Fine, dammit! _Itadakimasu_. I said it, happy?” Zoro asked, his vision almost turning red. Was this what the blond found entertaining? Driving him up the fucking wall? He was sick and twisted, Zoro decided.

“With more feeling,” Sanji pressed.

“More feeling my ass, take what you can fucking get and get over it!” 

Zoro took a deep breath and tried counting to ten, as the anger management therapist had suggested (They had only had one session since the therapist had ran out of the room after fifteen minutes, claiming he wasn’t being paid enough to handle him. Zoro’s friends claimed it was an April Fools joke. Zoro had checked the calendar. It had been July 29th). _Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Okay_. “Is there anything else you want me to do, sensei?” He tried not to grit his teeth but his jaw was squared and Sanji seemed to find it very amusing.

“ _Gochisōsama deshita_.”

What. The. Fuck?

“Excuse me?”

“ _Gochisōsama deshita_. You say it after a meal, Marimo. It’s two words, that too much for you, moss-head?” Sanji was challenging him with a raised (not to mention fucked up) eyebrow.

“No, that’s where I draw the line! I am not yours to make a mockery out of! You’re a sadistic bastard, that’s what you are!”

“A sadistic bastard you decided needed saving,” Sanji mused.

“Fuck that!” Zoro snapped.

“Look, I don’t have to stay here,” Sanji said. “I’m not being held here by gunpoint or anything. I could walk out that door and go back to the restaurant any time I fucking want to. Nothing’s stopping me. I think I might actually prefer Carne’s treatment.”

_Fucking liar._

“Either you say it, or I’m going,” Sanji threatened.

They both knew he wouldn’t go. It was early in the morning, there was no way it wouldn’t look suspicious to have some shirtless guy in a pair of sweats walking down Takeshita Street. His damn lighter would bring too much attention.

Zoro mumbled into his hand, turning away from the cook.

“Pardon? I couldn’t hear you.”

“ _Gochisōsama deshita_!” Zoro yelled. “There! Was that with enough feeling, Shit Cook?”

Sanji flinched and looked away. He took a long drag, staring out the window above the sink as though lost in thought before sighing and turning back to look at Zoro. “Your table manners leave much to be desired—”

“I said it already, alright? What the fuck more do you want from me?”

“I was talking about your loud chewing and burping!” Sanji snapped. “Honestly, no one who calls himself a gentleman could have such atrocious manners!”

“I never said I was a fucking gentleman!” Zoro snapped back. He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Just teach me, alright?”

Sanji sighed. “Okay, I’ll teach you. But if we do this, you follow my rules.”

Zoro nodded, vaguely wondering how a demand to entertain placed by Sanji had turned into a cooking lesson for Zoro.

“I’ll teach you something simple, how to make _onigiri_ ,” Sanji explained. “You’re in _my_ kitchen now though, remember that.”

Zoro wanted to tell him that technically, this was still his kitchen and who the hell was Sanji to act like he owned the fucking place, but he just nodded. If Sanji needed to be in control to feel better, then Zoro would give him that control. “Okay. What do we do?”

Sanji glanced at Zoro’s right hand. “You gonna put that away?”

Zoro followed his gaze and his eyes landed on Wado. Right, he was still holding her. 

When Zoro headed back to his room to put her away, he paused. He couldn’t stop drawing similarities between the two of them. It was the strangest sensation; for the first time, thinking about _Her_ didn’t hurt as much. He carefully put Wado away, lingering just a little longer to stare before he returned to the kitchen to see Sanji sitting at the table lazily, smoking up a storm.

“Alright, _now_ what do we do?”

“Well what do you think, Marimo? It’s a rice ball which means we need …?”

“Why are you looking at me like you’re expecting me to finish your sentence?”

“That’s because I am, fucking Marimo!”

It wasn’t his fault it was early in the morning. His brain wasn’t truly awake until at least eleven in the morning and sometimes not even then. “Right uh, to make a rice ball you need … rice?”

Sanji gave Zoro a slow, deliberate clap that left the swordsman feeling beyond stupid.

“Look at the brains on this one,” Sanji said with a dry laugh. “We need _nori_ as well, _bonito_ shavings and sesame seeds. Do you have all that in your pantry or are we making a two o’clock stop at a convenience store or some other kind of shit?”

“You lost me after _nori_ ,” Zoro admitted sheepishly. “And no fucking market place in their right mind would be open at this time!”

“Where do you think all the pregnant women get their pickle-flavoured ice cream from then, eh?”

_Pickle-flavoured ice cream? What the fuck?_

Zoro shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts of pickles dipped in cream. “Look, can you use less complex terms? One someone of my caliber would understand?”

“You just used the word caliber and you don’t know what _nori_ is?” Sanji sighed. “Then again, you kept using a paring knife when you should’ve been using a butter knife.” Sanji shook his head and closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t stand to look at the failure Zoro was in terms of kitchen etiquette. “ _Nori_ is dry seaweed and _bonito_ shavings are dry fish flakes. Is that simple enough for you, Marimo?”

Zoro glared at him, feeling rather insulted but he nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ve got some.”

“Wonderful,” Sanji said in a voice that sounded far too sarcastic. “We need a mesh strainer.”

“A _what_ strainer?” 

Sanji sighed. “I’ll look for it.”

It didn’t take long for Sanji to search through Zoro’s cupboards and pull out things Zoro hadn’t even known he had. It also took the cook perhaps fifteen minutes before he was walking around the kitchen like he owned it and Zoro found himself believing his statement of saying that it was Sanji’s kitchen now.

Zoro _did_ have a mesh strainer, along with long grain-rice, but they only needed short-grain so Sanji put the other rice aside. As far as Zoro was concerned rice was rice, but _nooooo_ , they needed short-grain. He couldn’t tell one brand of rice from another. As long as it didn’t smell funny, Zoro figured it was good to eat and therefore he reasoned he wouldn’t have to worry. When he told Sanji this, the blond stared at him before telling him Zoro couldn’t be more wrong. After the first five sentences, Zoro was wandering back to dream-land while Sanji did most of the work.

When the rice was ready, Sanji explained how you had to shape the _onigiri_ and then, after making what he called a “dimple” in it, you put the _bonito_ shavings (they were just fucking dried fish flakes, there was no reason to give them fancy names, the damn fish wouldn’t care!) into the space left by the dimple before you carefully closed up the hole left behind and then wrapped it in the _nor_ — fuck it, it was dry seaweed, okay? Zoro wasn’t going to use complicated names.

Sanji frowned once he was holding a rice ball. He handed Zoro a knife suddenly.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “What do you fucking think, genius?”

For the most part, Zoro had been doing nearly nothing. Sanji got far too into his cooking and had just made the _onigiri_ while lecturing Zoro, who had nearly fallen asleep. The only reason he wasn’t snoring at the moment was because watching the blond cook was fascinating. It really was like the kitchen became his battlefield.

“You want me to cut the seaweed?” Zoro guessed.

Sanji sighed dramatically. “It’s _nori_ —”

“I’ll call it whatever the fuck I want, alright?” Zoro snapped, grabbing the knife out of Sanji’s hands.

Taking the seaweed, he cut at it as though it were his latest opponent, his cuts sharp and calculated. When he was done, Sanji looked over his shoulder and Zoro heard the faint hiss of a cigarette hitting the counter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Zoro demanded, grabbing the cigarette and throwing it into the waste. There was a burn on the counter now and though Zoro had never thought much about his countertop, he had to admit he didn’t like the sudden dark mark against his otherwise light-wood counter.

“What the fuck is this?” Sanji demanded, pointing towards the chopped up seaweed.

Zoro dusted off his fingers and rolled his eyes. “Seaweed.”

Zoro could just _feel_ Sanji raising an eyebrow at him, despite the fact that his eyes never left the seaweed.

“Sorry, _dry_ seaweed.”

Sanji still didn’t look pleased. 

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem?” asked Zoro. “I cut the fucking slices, I used the fucking knife you told me to and you’re looking at me like I did a shit job, so if I did, fucking tell me before I take Wado and slash open your fucking throat!”

Sanji blinked.

“Wado?” 

“Never mind—”

“Is that that white katana you had?” 

Zoro stared. His friends thought it was weird that he called his swords by name, no one ever really got it, no one except _her_. He always had to explain himself to others, and they’d always give him a blank look whenever he did, so he had given up on bothering. And yet Sanji knew. He just _knew_.

“Uh, yeah.” Zoro’s throat felt dry. He cleared it and coughed, looking away from the cook’s scrutinizing gaze. “Look, is the seaweed good or not?”

Sanji bit his bottom lip and nodded slowly. “Yeah, it’s good. It’s … it’s fucking perfect.”

Zoro felt as though Sanji was complimenting him directly on his swordsmanship. Letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, Zoro nodded. “Yeah, course it is,” he muttered more to himself than to Sanji. “Fucking perfect,” he repeated.      

That was the first night Sanji showed Zoro how to cook.

It didn’t take long for Zoro to learn that Sanji wasn’t the best teacher. He would try to explain what he was doing as he was doing it, but then he’d get all wrapped up in it and forget you were there. He would proceed with his cooking as though he were alone, eventually dropping explanations all together and simply humming.

Zoro had never seen the cook so free. It was during those odd morning hours that he learnt more about Sanji than he had ever learnt during those nights at the Baratie.

Zoro’s cooking hadn’t improved one bit since Sanji had started to “live” with him. It had been a week and Sanji was still having nightmares. Zoro was sure if he tried, he could probably remember the recipe for that special kind of sushi whose name he couldn’t remember, but he was far too lazy. Besides, if he was living with such a brilliant cook, why bother trying to make any meals?

The cook didn’t understand how it was that Zoro, who was fucking disabled when it came to cooking, managed to slice and dice better than anyone he had ever known, maybe even beating out Sanji himself. Zoro claimed it was because of his swordsmanship. Sanji called it bullshit.

On the occasion, Sanji would bring up the whole “kidnapping” thing, but Zoro knew Sanji didn’t care about that anymore. He looked healthier when he was with Zoro, so he figured he was good for Sanji’s health. 

Those cigarettes however …

* * *

 

One night, when Sanji was teaching Zoro how to knead dough, he said a comment in a voice that seemed far too casual.

“It was them.”

This wasn’t Sanji’s usual babble about ingredients and the temperature the oven had to be set at, nor was it about how stupid politics were. This was … Zoro wasn’t sure, but was Sanji sharing with him? _Willingly_? Without being pressed?

Zoro stayed silent and decided that if Sanji wanted to talk, he would talk. Forcing answers out of him would never get him anywhere, so he kicked his feet up on the table and stayed quiet.

“They were …” Sanji took a deep breath, obviously trying to control himself and his hands went out in front of him on the counter, stopping his movement. It seemed as though he had wanted to speak about it casually, throw it in there, share a tad and then move on, but now that he was speaking it was starting to overwhelm him. He bent over, leaning on his arms, his head down. “They were grabbing at me … pulling …” Sanji’s eyes closed and he turned his head away from Zoro. “They … they were touching me and I didn’t want them to … in places I didn’t want them to …”

Zoro instantly realized what Sanji was talking about. Was this his nightmare? That memory being relayed over and over again?

He heard a choked sob from the cook. “It was … they were so _rough_ and I … I couldn’t—”

“Stop.”

Sanji looked up at Zoro in surprise. Zoro could see the beginning of tears ready to fall from Sanji’s eyes but pretended he couldn’t see them. Sanji would prefer if Zoro couldn’t see his weakness, no doubt.

“P-pardon?”

It sounded broken. Zoro hated it.

“I said stop,” Zoro repeated. “You’re … you’re clearly in pain at the memories, so shut the fuck up. My house has become a rehabilitation centre, not some trauma inducing environment, so get your shit together and if you still want to talk to me about it when it doesn’t hurt you anymore, then you know where to find me.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up, did you hear me?” Zoro snapped. “You were making miso, right?”

“I—” Sanji swallowed. He didn’t say thank you, and Zoro didn’t want him to. He shouldn’t have to be thanked for letting Sanji go at his own pace. With trembling fingers, Sanji went back to preparing the soup. 

The lights were blazingly, they always made him feel hot at night, too bright but he never shut them off. Sanji couldn’t handle the dark. The blond would never admit it, but Zoro knew it was true. The curtains were always open in the guest room and the lap was perpetually on. It was okay. His lighting bill was probably sky-rocketing, but it was okay.

Times like these were therapeutic to Zoro. He hadn’t even realized he needed them. They were mostly quiet, with Sanji talking to himself, but the feeling of another person there was new. He liked it. He missed it. And it took a while, but Zoro was starting to separate the two in his mind. 

Sanji and _her_ weren’t the same.

And Zoro was quite happy about that.

“Oh, Marimo?”

Zoro’s head perked up. “Hmm, Dart Brow?”

“Your apartment’s shit, you know?”

Zoro shook his head, holding in a laugh.

_That ungrateful bastard._


	8. The Trials of Socializing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Had a great vacation though and found the file for another One Piece story I'm thinking of uploading. I probably will. Yeah, I'll do it after I post this. It's a 5 shot. Updates on that will be monthly.

When Sanji woke up, he heard loud laughter.

It was very strange. After about a week and a half of living with Zoro, Sanji had gotten used to quiet mornings since the Marimo was a grouch in the wee hours of the day.

With a sigh, Sanji pushed the blanket off of himself and got out his cigarette as usual. Lighting it up, he ruffled his hair and trudged into the kitchen. The light was on, another strange thing and when he sat down at the table he stared at the empty placemat, void of a plate, glass and utensils. He scratched his head confused, trying to think through the loud sounds of people talking. 

_Wait, talking?_

Sanji lifted his head to find many eyes staring at him.

"Um ... morning?”

There were a few people sitting in the living room, but his eyes were drawn to a man wearing some kind of straw-hat with messy dark hair and big eyes. The man in the hat immediately jumped from his sitting position on the couch, parkour-jumping over the cushions. His feet on the floor but that didn’t stop him from barrelling his way over to the cook, getting way too close for comfort. “You’re Sanji, right?”

Sanji tried not to squirm, with him so close. He could feel the man’s breath on his face and he didn’t like it. He felt too cornered. He couldn’t … He forced words out of his mouth. “How the fuck do you know me?”

A burst of laughter rang out, tinkling like bells. 

Sanji saw a redhead was sitting on the coffee table. She was very pretty, with big brown eyes and a slim frame. “I think we might have just found someone who swears as much, if not more, than Zoro.”

Sanji gritted his teeth. “You’re not answering my question so I’ll reiterate; how the fuck do you know me?”

“Well,” came a new voice. Sanji traced it back to a man with a long nose and unruly dark hair. He was sitting on the couch, where the straw-hat man had previously been. “You see, I battled with my old friend from the yakuza who went astray and he told me that there was some ass-kicking bastard who seemed very skilled in _savate_ screwing around with his boss, so like a good friend, I tracked you down and beat the crap out of you—”

“I’ve never seen you before in my fucking life.”

The man let out a triumphant laugh. “I was so good, you got amnesia. When it finally came back to you, you erased the memories, PTSD and all. You know how it is.”

“I have no idea who the fuck you are and the fuck is _savate_?” His brows furrowed. “Is that French?”

“Hey, can you cook me something?”

Sanji turned back to the strange straw-hat wearing man whom he had forgotten was next to him. “I want meat and Zoro says you’re one hell of a cook, so what do you say? Make me a steak. Or lamb. Or buffalo wings— oh! Can you make spicy sauce? I love spicy sauce—”

“Luffy, leave the poor guy alone.”

Zoro was walking out of his bedroom, scratching his head as he yawned. “Bastards, I knew I shouldn’t have given you a key.”

“Oh come on Zoro, you know you love us!” the man whom Sanji assumed was named Luffy said. “Besides, who’d be your drinking partners otherwise?”

“I’m trying to quit.”

“Since when?” asked the redhead, leaning forward as though to hear him better. She turned to the long nose man and smirked. “I say we give him two weeks and then he cracks. How high are the stakes? 20? 35?” The girl rubbed her hands together eagerly. “Come on Usopp, place your bet!”

“20? 35? _Thousand_?” the long-nose man said in a squeak.

“What else?”

Zoro pinched his nose. “Nami, I thought we were getting you _away_ from the casinos.”

“Hey, it’s just a friendly gamble—”

“For your information, I haven’t had sake in almost three months,” Zoro told her. “I’m doing just fine.”

The redhead looked put out, pouting. “You’re no fun. Hey, Luffy,” she said, turning to the straw-hat man. “How about it? I’ll go easy on you and start with 10.”

Luffy stared at her blankly. “What are we talking about?”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” Zoro assured him. “Hey, Curlicue, what’s with the dumb expression on your face?”

Sanji slipped out of his chair then, away from Luffy, able to breathe again. “These bastards just come in here and you’re not going to explain this to me? Marimo, you better start talking. Now!”

“Marimo?” repeated Nami with a chuckle. “There’s a new name for ya, eh, Zoro?”

Zoro ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Okay, let me explain. Luffy, you shouldn’t have been that close to him, you’ll have him in cardiac arrest if you don’t tone it down.”

“But I want meat,” Luffy whined.

“Later.” He turned to Sanji. “Look, I’m sorry about this. Um, I know this isn’t exactly the best way to meet them, but uh, these are my friends. Cook, meet Luffy,” he gestured towards the pouting man who took a seat back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, looking almost like a child right before a temper tantrum. “That’s his girlfriend, Nami,” Zoro pointed at the redhead.

“It’s rude to point, didn’t you know, Zoro?” Nami growled. She gave Sanji a smile and stood up, walking over to him. She was very pretty, almost as pretty as Moodie, with her hair and those curves— no, she had a boyfriend. _Wait, a guy named Luffy, of all names, has a date and I don’t?_ There was a problem with that picture to Sanji. “I’m Nami, nice to meet you,” she greeted him, holding out a hand.

Sanji took her hand and gave her a small smile. He tried not to tense up too much from her touch. “Sanji.”

“Charmed.”

“Hey buddy!” Luffy said, standing up and grabbing his arm, pulling it back as though waiting to punch him. “Hands off!”

Zoro sent Luffy a glare. “If you raise a finger on him, you’re dead.”

Luffy sat back down, but he was pouting again. Nami walked back over to the couch and took a seat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Is that better, Captain?”

Captain? What kind of weird kinks was that girl into? _Well, they do say the redheads are the wild ones._

“This is Usopp,” Zoro said, pointing towards the long-nosed man. 

Usopp grinned brightly. “Nice to meet you Sanji, sorry about that kick to your head. You know, I know quite a bit of _savate_ myself and in the old days used to throw around with some of the champions. You should meet them, there was this one guy, he was huge and he had this giant-ass sword, but one look at me and he was crying ‘Mommy’, running out of the ring!”

Zoro scoffed.

“What?” 

The swordsman shook his head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a very … _special_ case.”

“Like you aren’t a piece of work yourself?”

Zoro grit his teeth. “Shut up, Curly Brow!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji saw Nami raise an eyebrow. What was her deal?

“Hey Zoro, when’s the next time you’re coming to Partys?” asked the redhead.

Partys? What the hell was that?

Luffy suddenly bolted up, standing straight and knocking Nami out of his lap. Sanji grit his teeth at Luffy’s carelessness. If he was dating the young beauty, shouldn’t he be treating her with more respect?

“Oh yeah!” The straw-hate man snapped his fingers. “I just remembered, Nami mentioned something about maybe charging others to see the fights.”

Fights? What the fuck did Zoro get himself into? Sanji was reminded once again that Zoro had told him that he often had to bail his friends out of jail. Had Zoro ever ended up in the slammer? 

“Nami …”

“You weren’t supposed to tell him it was me, _baka_!” Nami said, hitting the brim of Luffy’s hat. Sanji watched as the hat fell from Luffy’s head and before it could touch the ground, Luffy was underneath it, swooping in like an eagle. He stood back up and pulled it onto his head, gripping the brim tightly as though to keep it from flying away in an imaginary wind. 

Zoro’s friends were odd. Kind of like the green-haired swordsman himself.

Zoro shook his head. “We went over this Nami, it isn’t healthy what you're doing. Do we need to have you rehabilitated?”

Sanji snorted. “You know big words like that, eh, Marimo?”

“Shut up!” 

Sanji smirked. “What, not going to dazzle me with your plethora of a vocabulary?”

“Is he insulting him?”

Sanji wanted to roll his eyes at the comment from Luffy, but kept it in. It wouldn’t do well to lose his temper. _Then what the fuck was all that arguing with Zoro?_ Sanji shook his head. _Oi, don’t ask me, you’re supposed to be on my side, you’re me!_

“You okay, Sanji?”

Nami was looking at him with worried eyes and he had to admit to himself he probably looked stupid, getting into an internal fight with his conscience. “Fine,” he replied, his jaw set.

“WOW! COOL!” Luffy screamed, startling Sanji, who jumped back in surprise as the messy haired man ran around the couch again, getting way too close for comfort. “Where’d you get that scar?”

Sanji froze. He wanted to die.

When he slept on the upper floor of the Baratie, Sanji would sleep sans shirt because they irritated him, especially when they rubbed against the blankets. He had developed a habit of going to sleep half-dressed, and it seemed this habit stayed with him when he slept in Zoro’s guest room as well. There was only one time you could ever stumble across the cook in a state of undress and that was when he was sleeping. Whenever he took a shower, he brought an extra pair of clothes with him, even if he was the only one in the building. His clothes always showed off the least amount of skin possible; long black pants, a long-sleeved dress shirt and a blazer. There was a reason.

Standing in front of three strangers, Sanji felt exposed. It wasn’t as though Zoro knew him all that much more than this strange bunch— though the swordsman knew more about the cook than he’d care to admit— and standing there in the kitchen without his top on made Sanji feel like curling up into a little ball until he sunk into the floor or some other kind of impossible shit. 

The last time Sanji had looked at himself in a mirror without a shirt on, he remembered bruises. Many, many bruises across his chest, his abdomen, his stomach, his arms. It had been right after one of the cooks’ beatings and he had to tend to his own wounds, which he happened to be shit at. He didn’t even want to know what he looked like now, he didn’t want to know what the others thought of his body.

Sanji knew he was skinny. He knew he was bony and that you could probably see his ribs. He knew he wasn’t built and muscular like Zoro and to say that he had a few scars was an understatement. He had various small cuts from bad encounters with people on the street, or in the kitchen and he remembered that there was a nasty scar just below where his heart was when he had gotten really desperate. 

Wait a minute. That meant that …

Sanji’s eyes flickered towards Zoro and realized that even in the dim light of his bedroom when Zoro came to pick him up after he had another nightmare before they went to the kitchen, he could see. He had seen them and Sanji hadn’t even thought about it but he was sure it showed. The moment he realized that he was exposed to these strangers.

“Hey Zoro, it’s almost as impressive as the one you've got!” Luffy said with a big smile on his face. 

Sanji snorted. Yes, Zoro may have a scar across his chest, but knowing the green-haired man, it was probably given to him during a courageous battle and was some kind of battle scar that held great meaning to him whenever he looked at himself in the mirror. “Figures.”

“I can tell you the story of how he got it,” Usopp offered. “It was a huge mess, going against this guy, you might’ve heard of him—”

Sanji had to admit it was funny to watch the look of panic on Zoro’s face when he covered Usopp’s mouth with his hand. “No one needs to hear the story, Usopp.”

“If you guys don’t mind, I’m not looking very presentable right now, so I think I’ll just go and change,” Sanji said, trying not to sound too panicked.

He tried not to walk too quickly out of the room, keeping his head down. His strides were long and powerful. He could hear Usopp muttering something about _savate_ and how it wasn’t possible someone with Sanji’s leg-strength had never heard of it.

Sanji quickly changed into different clothes.

Zoro had seen him almost every night for the past week and a half, without ever saying a word. He hadn’t mentioned the scars at all. _Maybe he’s too disgusted to say anything?_

Sanji shook his head. No, Zoro wasn’t like that. Or at least, he hoped he wasn’t.

Slipping on his blazer, he lit up a new cigarette and sighed. When he was about to enter the living room, he heard chatting. He would’ve ignored it and entered anyway, but then he heard his name.

“—where’s Sanji from?”

Sanji froze.

What would Zoro tell them? What had Zoro already told them? 

_“This is Sanji, my charity case. I saw him getting beaten up by some over-sized men and decided to throw him a bone. He’s kind of pathetic, isn’t he?”_

Sanji’s fist curled and his jaw clenched. What happened to him was his own business! _He_ chose who heard about his unfortunate life, _he_ was the one who decided who got to know about his horrible encounters with the cooks! _Only him_! Zoro had no right to tell them anything!

There was a part of Sanji that had been waiting for this though. For the other shoe to drop.

Sure, the swordsman was rough around the edges. He screamed a lot, swore, and had a bad temper. He couldn’t cook (even after Sanji took the time to explain it to him), he couldn’t fold laundry, he didn’t seem to have enough money to pay his rent (if the amount of money he had given Sanji was really all he had in his wallet) and he was irrational. The man had _kidnapped_ him for God’s sake! But Zoro was also patient (or at least, he tried to be), he didn’t press too much, he never brought up Sanji’s past. He didn’t mention the cooks, never treated him any differently from anyone else he knew. Zoro treated Sanji in a way that Sanji had thought only Zeff was able to. 

He treated him like he was human.

A man like that couldn’t possibly exist. At least not in Sanji’s world.

Sanji held his breath, waiting for Zoro’s answer.

“Not telling.”

“What?!”

_My thoughts exactly._

“Look Nami, it's not my business to tell you,” said Zoro. “Seriously. If he wants to tell you his story, that’s his job, not mine. Don’t do that, you look stupid with your mouth hanging open like that.”

“Are you protecting him or something?” asked Luffy. “Like, I dunno, from the cops or something? Zoro, are you hiding a wanted man?!”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Zoro insisted. “It’s just not my place to tell you.”

“I bet he’s in the yakuza,” declared Usopp.

There was a pause for a moment. 

“Okay Zoro,” said Luffy. “I trust you. I still want to know, but I’ll trust you with this. But Zoro …”

“What? You want to say something, so spit it out, Straw Hat!”

“Hey, don’t diss the hat!” Luffy said. “But seriously, what about … you know …” he trailed off.

“Are you really bringing _Her_ up _now_?”

“I just mean …”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I’m not, and even if I was, I wouldn’t with him. He’s … he’s got his own stuff to deal with.”

“But Zoro …”

“Not you too, Nami!” There was a sigh. “Can you two just shut it? I don’t get what you’re getting all worked up about—”

“Hey, you’re the one getting all worked up, Buddy,” said Usopp.

“Don’t give me that look, Nami.”

“I mean, it’s been a few months—”

“We are not having this conversation right now—”

“Then when _will_ we have it?” Nami sighed, exasperated.

“Preferably never.”

“You can’t run from it forever, you know,” Nami said. “You’ll have to face it eventually.”

“It’s none of your business,—”

“You’re my friend, Zoro, how is this _not_ my business?” 

“I don’t want your help—”

“You _never_ want our help.”

“Because I don’t need it— don’t look at me like that! I’m fine, I don’t need you giving me puppy eyes—”

“I can just see you’re making progress,” Nami said. There was something in her voice that Sanji couldn’t name. “I don’t want you to go backwards just because you’re stubborn.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s just … It’s different. To see you this happy.”

“What, am I usually grumpy?”

_Yes actually, you are, didn’t you know, Marimo?_

“No, it’s just …” Nami took a deep breath. “Ever since _She_ died, you’ve haven’t been as … lively? Active? I don’t know the word for it, but it’s just that when you’re around Sanji, it’s different. You’re more animated, you let yourself go and just … I dunno, you flow better.”

“I _flow better_?”

The fuck was that girl talking about? What did it mean to “flow”? What, was she talking about chi or some other kind of strange zen shit? 

“Hate to admit it Zoro, but Nami’s right,” interjected Usopp. “I mean, I’m no expert, but wasn’t that what it was like with—”

“Shut up!”

There was silence.

Sanji could hear Zoro’s heavy breathing.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Usopp. It’s just …”

“I know man, I know.”

More silence.

Suddenly, Nami spoke. “Sanji’s taking a long time, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Zoro. “I’ll go check on him.”

Immediately, Sanji jumped and nearly hit his head on the wall. He took a step closer towards the living room before pausing. Would it seem too suspicious to just turn up now, after they mentioned him? Dammit, what was he supposed to do?

“Oi! Dart Brow, get your ass back here!”

Sanji took a deep breath and let himself walk into the living room, taking a seat on the giant comfy chair that was near the TV. “Staring at my ass Marimo? Careful or else I might think you bat for the other team.” That was good. Casual. Normal.

“You clean up nicely, Sanji!” said Nami.

“Oh this?” Sanji stared at his usual attire and shrugged. “Just threw it on really.”

* * *

Usopp, Nami and Luffy stayed at the apartment much longer than Sanji thought they would. He ended up cooking lunch for Luffy and was praised immensely for his wonderful chicken. It wasn’t quite the same as hearing Zoro hold in a moan as he ate his sushi, but it was satisfying all the same. Zoro’s friends were rather entertaining for Sanji, enough so that he became distracted of what he had been thinking about beforehand.

When the three finally left late at night, Sanji was exhausted and ready to fall asleep on the floor. There was a bit of a mess left behind, some beer bottles (none of which had been drunken by Zoro to Sanji’s surprise— after all, it was cheap beer, right?) and a couple of wrappers of some candies besides the dishes.

“I’m going to bed,” Zoro declared.

“Marimo, get your fucking ass back in here right now! I’m not doing the dishes on my own, you bastard!” Sanji snapped.

He heard Zoro sigh before he returned and grabbed a dish towel. “What’s the point of it anyway? We’re going to use the dishes again anyway tomorrow morning, why don’t we just clean them then?”

“Because that’s disgusting.” Sanji wrinkled his nose. “The crumbs and stuff will bring in unwanted visitors—”

“Unwanted visitors?” Zoro repeated. He let out a laugh. “Why don’t you just call them bugs? Seriously, everything about you is too proper.”

Sanji shook his head. “I’ll wash, you dry. Even _you_ can do that, right, Marimo?”

Zoro grumbled, but they fell into a rhythm. Sanji would clean the dish and hand it to Zoro who would dry it and put it away. 

“So, sorry about my friends,” Zoro said after some silence. “The visit was incredibly unexpected and I’ll beat them up for it later, I promise.” He put away a plate before turning back around. “I know they’re fucking idiots, but they’re my friends, so I gotta love ‘em.”

“It’s fine, it was a very … entertaining day.” Sanji told him. “About Luffy …” he trailed off.

“Yeah, he’s always like that,” Zoro said. “And Nami’s still trying to get him to go gamble but he doesn’t see the point in it. She’s gotten better since they’ve started dating, but still, she’s a piece of work.”

“And Usopp?”

“Look at his nose, think of Pinocchio and I swear, you’ll watch it grow.”

Zoro laughed. 

A strange outburst of sound escaped Sanji’s lips.

Zoro snorted. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That …” Zoro tried to mimic the sound.

“Shut up, it did not sound like that.”

“It so did.”

Sanji shrugged and kicked the back of his knee. The swordsman nearly fell forward and sent him a half-assed glare. “There it is again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zoro tilted his head and frowned. “Were you … laughing?”

Sanji scoffed. “I don’t know how to laugh.” He meant it as a joke but it rang too true to his ears.

“No, I could’ve sworn …”

“Focus on drying,” Sanji said, “the faster we get this done, the sooner you get to sleep, and I know how much you love that, don’t you, Moss?”

Zoro said nothing for a while, instead deciding to be quiet, before he broke the silence.

“So you seriously don’t know what _savate_ is?”

“No. It’s French, isn’t it?”

Zoro nodded.

“I knew it!”

The green-haired man chuckled. “It’s a form of boxing. _Savate_ is the French word for ‘old shoe’. It’s like kick-boxing. With your powerful kicks, I’m sure you’d be great at it.”

“So you told them about my kicks?”

“If I didn’t tell them about your kicks, how could I warn them about any injuries that may have been inflicted on my head? They’d need to know the reason I could potentially be sent to the hospital due to being forced into a coma thanks to you and your damn boots.”

Sanji handed Zoro a glass, their fingers brushing lightly. The swordsman looked unfazed, as though he hadn’t even realized it had happened, but Sanji felt a shiver go up his spine. 

Unlike the other times when someone touched him, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t feel as though he had been doused with cold water, as though he were vulnerable or useless. He just felt … fine. Normal. And God, was it the best feeling in the world.

When Sanji went to the guest bedroom and closed the door, he fell down on the bed. He felt as though he had just been refreshed, despite the fact that he was tired. Maybe _savate_ was something worth looking into. What did he have to lose, after all? As his eyes drifted close, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him this was dangerous. 

He was getting comfortable. He was starting to feel safe. He was starting to feel cared for. 

He ignored the voice and politely told it to shut the fuck up, because it had been years since he had gone to bed feeling this good.

That night, Sanji had no nightmares.


	9. Roronoa Zoro: Kendo Champ, Part-Time Therapist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. I really have fun playing stupid word games, which is why Zoro and Sanji play lots of word games. It was inspired by Random Word Association by CerealK on FF, who wrote a good SasuNaru story about it. I know nothing about psychology.

It had officially been three months since Zoro had first walked into the Baratie, almost three weeks since Sanji had been living with him and fifteen minutes since Zoro realized he didn’t have a single fucking clue who Sanji was.

Though the cook didn’t seem to know French, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a rogue from elsewhere. Maybe from America, or Brazil. Maybe he was Italian— no, Italian was too similar to French for him to have possibly misunderstood what Zoro had said. So then, that could only mean he wasn’t a foreign rogue. He could be an escaped member of the yakuza, but then that brought up questions like if he was part of the yakuza, how was his fighting style so similar to _savate_ and yet he had never heard of it? And if he ran away from the yakuza, didn't that mean he was good? But then again, Zoro could say that Sanji had no real fighting style, since he had never seen Sanji in an actual fight before. Maybe the cook fought differently from what Zoro thought. He couldn’t be certain though. But everything about Sanji told him that he wasn’t a rogue _._

_But it could all be an act— dear God, you’re paranoid, aren’t you?_

Needless to say Zoro needed answers before he drove himself up the wall and went insane. Or rather, more insane.

Catching Sanji off guard was harder than the swordsman anticipated. 

You wouldn’t think it’d be difficult. The blond had been put on house-arrest (or rather, apartment-arrest) courtesy of Zoro and could therefore, not escape any awkward conversations. But Sanji had a way with words that lead to distracting Zoro whenever he brought up any questions that he desperately wanted the answer to. Sure, it was all okay when that question happened to be “What’s your favourite movie?”, but there were other questions, like, “Who’s the head chef at the restaurant?” that caused him to get rather unhappy when the cook denied him answers. On some days, he’d be willing to share that he thought Rie Kugimiya needed a better job than playing tsunderes on shows that were quite childish (followed by which, Zoro asked him how he knew of this voice actress if he thought she played stupid roles), or that he enjoyed watching the rain, but he’d never want to be caught in it. But then on other days he would refuse aggressively when asked where he had lived before the Baratie, or when questioned about why he had never run away before. He wouldn’t even tell Zoro his favourite dish to cook— though, to be fair, Sanji’s answer had been that no meal should be preferred over another in terms of taste, and therefore no meal should be favoured over another based on preparation. 

“Hey, Marimo, breakfast is ready!”

Zoro looked up from his seat at the table to see Sanji offering a plate of eggs and bacon. He took it and grumbled non-coherent things under his breath.

“Hey, I was wondering,” said Sanji as he put the kitchen towel over his shoulder casually. With each day, Sanji seemed to be finding himself more and more comfortable in his own skin. It was amazing to watch. “When’d you get those earrings?”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Zoro said with a mouthful of food, so it came out more as, “‘eh, ‘sn’t hair!”

There was that weird bubbly sound that escaped his lips. He clamped down on it quickly. Zoro wanted to reach out and pull Sanji’s hand away, tell him to keep going. It was the fragmented remains of a laugh, and Zoro wanted to hear it. He couldn’t wait for the day that Sanji would laugh without any fear, and it would stop coming out sounding so disjointed.

Zoro swallowed. “That’s not fair!” he repeated. “You can’t ask me questions and expect me to give you answers  while you refuse point-blank to answer any of mine!”

“I don’t believe you gave me an answer,” said Sanji. “I think this is completely fair.”

“Look, I care about you, okay? Despite the fact that you’re a downright bastard, you’re a somewhat decent guy—”

“I’m flattered.”

“Shut up!” Zoro sighed and tried to breathe calmly. “Look, I just think that as the one who’s looking after you—”

“More like the one who’s holding me against my will—”

“You haven’t left yet!” Zoro pointed out. “God, just shut up, will you? I don’t have the patience for this, really, I don’t. Let me just get this all out, alright?”

“Are we going to be like girls and braid our hair and shit?”

“You’re not helping.” He waited a few moments for an apology, but he already knew Sanji wasn’t going to give him one. “Anyway, I just want to know more about you. Is that a crime? I mean what do I know about you? You like poetry, you’re obsessed with Shakespeare—”

“It’s not an obsession!”

“Oh _please_! And what else? You can’t speak French for shit, you kick fucking hard and yet have never heard of _savate_ and you cook a fucking orgasmic sashimi! Sorry if I want to know more about the person who’s invading my house!”

“This isn’t a house, Marimo, it’s an apartment. A fucking shit-hole apartment at that. And I didn’t invade, need I remind you, _you_ were the one who abducted _me_ , _I’m_ the victim here!”

_“Vraiment, t’es trop dramatique, n’est ce pas?”_

Sanji stared at him, confused. “Did you just insult me?”

“You’ll never know.” Zoro didn’t want to pick a fight with the cook, he honestly didn’t, but he couldn't seem to get the cook to talk to him any way else. He was so reserved, so introverted and yet at the same time, he acted very social when it suited him. It was infuriating, it was almost like having a bipolar girlfriend nagging at him— wait, girlfriend? As in, a romantic relationship? _Well, I suppose, the bastard’s attractive, in a skinny, lean way— no, wait, he’s a bastard! A secretive, conniving, sadistic bastard!_

“Look, I’m not in the mood to fight with you, okay?” Sanji asked. “It’s the morning and I’m tired and I just need some fucking sleep—”

“Did they come back?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself. Recently, the cook’s late night visits to his room had stopped. Zoro didn’t have to keep himself half-awake to hear the soft sound of feet on the carpet outside his door, nor did he have to sleep till mid-day from the exhaustion of staying up till four in the morning, learning how to stuff a turkey. Like he’d ever use that in real life. The nightmares had definitely stopped, or at least, he hoped they had stopped. Maybe the cook was just getting better at hiding his pain. 

The blond was so selfless he probably thought his problems were a bother to others. 

Zoro would never admit it, he kind of missed the late night rendez-vous, for a reason he would totally not think too much about.

“No,” Sanji turned away from him. “I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah …”

“So what’s the problem?”

Sanji sighed and took a new cigarette from his pack. The smell had begun to linger in the apartment and for some reason, it didn’t annoy Zoro as much as it used to. In fact, he had begun to relate the smell of nicotine to spices, seasoning and an indescribably intoxicating scent that Zoro swore could not be natural. 

To Sanji.

“It’s nothing,” the cook said. “Just thoughts keeping me up.”

“About what?”

Sanji turned to him sharply. “What’s it to you, Marimo? Must you stick your nose in everyone’s fucking business?”

“When that person’s under my roof, I think I have the right!”

“It’s a shitty roof!”

“As you’ve mentioned before!”

The of them stared at each other when suddenly, they both burst out laughing.

In reality, throwing insults wasn’t all that funny and yet for some inexplicable reason, he found it hilarious. Perhaps it was because of the way Zoro hadn’t even tried to deny the horrible quality of his apartment (though the landlord would have a field day should she ever hear about it), or the way Sanji had resorted to using such a stupid comeback. Whichever the case (though Zoro suspected it was neither), the two were laughing and Sanji was wiping tears out of his eyes.

And that’s when Zoro realized it.

The cook was actually _laughing_. He was laughing with abandon and there was no denying the way his lips curled upwards in a smile. Perhaps the smile was slightly crooked and could be thought of as a smirk and maybe Sanji didn’t look the most put together while he was laughing, holding onto the counter to steady himself, but Zoro was satisfied. Hearing a natural, happy laugh from the blond was something he had never witnessed before and now that he had. He stopped his own laughter and could do nothing but stare at Sanji in awe. Zoro wondered why Sanji had ever bothered to warp his laughter into a strange, cold, empty chuckle that sounded mocking. But then he remembered why.

Though the reason for their argument might have been forgotten by Sanji, Zoro didn’t forget. He had to do something about it, because he knew that while the cook wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to confront his problem head-on, he needed to heal and the first step towards healing was talking. And Goddammit, Zoro was going to make the fucking bastard talk, whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

“Sit on the couch.”

Sanji looked up at Zoro from the stove. “Hello to you too—”

“Get on the couch.”

Sanji frowned. “But—”

“Don’t question it, just do it, Curly Brow.”

Zoro waited as Sanji turned off the stove and covered the pot with a lid before he sat down on Zoro’s well-worn out couch. 

The swordsman dropped his bag on the floor and brushed the sweat away from his face. A day at the gym had him tired out, but not tired enough that he wouldn’t give this a try. He took a seat in the chair near the TV and looked Sanji straight in the eye, unblinkingly.

The blond met his gaze without hesitation. 

There was silence. It wasn’t the kind of silence Zoro was used to. Most of the time, there was a tense silence between him and his opponent before he utterly destroyed them in the match. Every now and then he and his strange oddball group of friends fell into an awkward silence as Usopp told yet another ridiculous lie, or Luffy said another ridiculously naive and pointless thought that no one really had to know. He knew awkward silence and tense silence. This was different. It was … comfortable. He didn’t feel like he needed to say anything, didn’t see a reason to break the silence. 

But he had to, or else he’d never get anything done.

“Have you ever heard of the game Random Word Association?” 

Sanji blinked. “What?”

“It’s a game that people play when they’re bored, usually works best with two people. One person says a word and the other person says the first word that pops into their head when they hear that other word,” Zoro explained. 

“Sounds like hanging out with Luffy,” Sanji mused.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“But what does that have to do with me? I was cooking dinner, so unless you want take-out—”

“Random Word Association is also used by therapists,” Zoro hurried along. “They use it to psychoanalyze others and figure out things about their personality. It shows them what people relate certain things to and how long it takes the person to respond also tells them how willing they are to speak about a certain topic. I think some guy named Freud came up with it.”

“The guy with the penis obsession?”

Zoro frowned. “The what?”

“You know, the guy who believed everything was a phallic symbol. He’s the one who believed in the Oedipus complex, you know, when little boys want to fuck their mom’s—”

“Why would you—? You know what, it doesn’t matter, stop trying to distract me.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow “Are you telling me that you want to sit me down casually right before dinner to pick at the little parts of my brain?”

“I want to psychoanalyze you, yes.”

Sanji blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then—

“What the fuck?”

“It’s just for fun,” Zoro added quickly. “I don’t put much faith in psychology anyway. I have a timer and everything, so why don’t we kill some time? Shouldn’t take longer than maybe, fifteen minutes? That thing can cook on its own for that long, can’t it, without worrying about needing to call 110, right?”

Sanji looked back at the stove with a frown.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

Sanji sighed. “I suppose …”

“So entertain me, it’ll be fun,” Zoro insisted. “Or are you scared I’m going to unlock your inner most secrets, cook?”

The moment Sanji realized it was a challenge, Zoro knew there was no way he was backing out.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Zoro waited while Sanji went back to turn on the stove and took out his stopwatch. To be dreadfully honest, he hadn’t expected Sanji to agree. This meant that all these words that were about to come out of his mouth were completely unprepared and would probably be random. There were certain words that Zoro knew he wanted to know what the cook had to say about, but there were others that had slipped his mind while on his way back from the gym.

When Sanji took his seat again, he smirked at Zoro. “So, are we going to get started?”

“Give me a sec, Love Cook,” Zoro shot back. He thought for a moment, his finger hovering over the start button on the stopwatch. “Okay. First one. Red.” 

 _Start_.

“Blood.” 

_0.03 seconds._

Seeing as he was a cook, Zoro thought he’d have said wine or champagne or some other kind of fancy beverage shit. Part of him though he should be concerned about how quickly the blond associated red with blood, but so did Zoro. Then again, Zoro was a swordsman who was used to getting bloody.

“Black.”

“Death.”

_0.6 seconds_

Ignoring the fact that it was a fucking shade and not a colour (Sanji didn’t know what he was talking about), it was Sanji’s favourite. To associate it with death was … well, it worried him. But taking zero point six seconds … did that mean death was a topic that Sanji didn’t enjoy?

“Food.”

“Cooking.”

_0.01 seconds._

Zoro wanted to laugh at the reflex. _Said like a true cook._

“Dreams.”

“Illusions.”

_0.29 seconds._

“Fear.”

“Pain.”

_0.47 seconds._

“Friends.”

“Non-existent.”

_0.78 seconds._

“Love.”

“Hurts.”

_3.17 seconds._

“Damaged.”

Sanji looked away from him. He shook his head and bit his bottom lip, refusing to allow the words to come out. They had been doing so well and then Sanji had shut himself in again. This wasn’t going to work if Sanji didn’t trust him. And that gave Zoro an idea for his next word, if Sanji ever came up with an answer to this one. 

Sanji muttered something, but Zoro couldn’t hear it.

_5.96, 5.97, 98, 99—_

“Me.”

_5.99 seconds._

Zoro stared at Sanji, dumbstruck. He wasn’t sure if the blond realized it, but he had just opened up to Zoro in a way that he had never done before. It scared Zoro, to see the cook so open and yet at the very same time, Zoro was very glad he was the one seeing this vulnerable side to Sanji. 

Zoro said nothing about Sanji’s answer and moved onto the next word. “Trust.”

“False.”

_0.5 seconds._

Okay, clearly someone had trust issues, not that Zoro could blame him.

“ _Nakama_.”

Sanji gave him a strange look. “What the fuck? You already said ‘friend’, you can’t say ‘ _nakama_ ’.”

“But _nakama_ and friend are two different things,” Zoro protested. “A friend is someone who’s close to you, who you share things in common with, right? But a _nakama_ is like family. They’re closer than a friend, and sometimes you hate them, but you have to love them anyway, right? In the most platonic way possible, of course.”

Sanji bit his bottom lip and sighed. Obviously he saw Zoro’s point.

“I’ll say it again Sanji. _Nakama_.”

Sanji shifted and turned his head away from Zoro again, faster and more sharply this time.

Zoro waited.

 _7.23, 7.24, 25, 26, 27,_ —

“Sanji, I said _nakama_.”

“I heard you, you fucking Marimo!”

_7.30 seconds._

“Then what’s the fucking problem?” Zoro snapped.

If Zoro wasn’t hallucinating, through the smoke he could’ve sworn he saw a light blush on Sanji’s pale cheeks. “It’s embarrassing,” Sanji said. 

“Fucking tell me,” Zoro said, glaring at him.

_8.09, 8.10, .11,.12—_

“You.”

It was so quiet, Zoro almost didn’t hear it. Sanji was definitely blushing now, but he turned his head away and the smoke clouded him off from the swordsman who was reeling from his answer. 

_You._

As in … _Zoro_? But, how? _Why_? It didn’t make any sense.

“But you said friends were non-existent, how can I be fucking _nakama_?” Zoro demanded. “You have to be a friend at least to be _nakama,_ ” Zoro insisted. “What the fuck is going on in your head?” 

“How am I supposed to fucking know?”

“It’s _your_ head!”

“Well, my head isn’t the most sane place to be!” Sanji said, throwing his hands in the air. “You think this makes any sense to me? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, this is insane! Utter and complete ludicrousness!” Sanji shook his head. “I can’t even find words to describe how pissed off I am! Fuck, you’re driving me up the wall!”

There was silence that fell over them both. This time, Zoro knew this silence. It was the tense silence that you were scared to break for fear of what would happen next. It was the silence that made your blood run cold and made you question your next move, trying to figure out what to do, what move was safest against your opponent. 

But Zoro’s opponent was Sanji and he had no clue what to do with the cook.

_Beep! Beep!_

“Shit!”

Sanji sprinted up from the couch and ran into the kitchen, turning off the stove. 

The tension was gone and the moment, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, was over.

* * *

“Let me try.”

“Try what?” asked Zoro through a mouthful of Sanji’s wonderful stir-fry meal.

Sanji’s nose wrinkled in disgust at Zoro’s lack of table manners.

In order to annoy the blond further, Zoro proceeded to chew with his mouth open. 

“I want to take a shot at this psychoanalysis thing too.”

_SPLAT!_

Zoro recoiled as Sanji wiped his face clean of the combination of vegetables, rice and meat. He was clearly unamused as he pulled a piece of chicken out of his hair. He sent Zoro a glare before throwing away the napkin. “Was it so shocking you had to waste precious food?” demanded Sanji with a frown.

What was the deal with this man and food?

“Give me your stopwatch, I’m going to give it a try. You left it on the coffee table, right?” Sanji stood up without a word and headed towards the coffee table, walking with a purposeful stride in his step. 

“What do you know about psychology?” demanded Zoro, too stunned to move from the table.

“What do _you_ know about psychology?” Sanji shot back, raising an eyebrow at him. Zoro wasn’t able to formulate a response so instead, he merely sat there while Sanji walked back, tossing the stopwatch in the air and catching it swiftly with almost no effort.

“Asshole,” Zoro muttered.

“Well, this asshole’s going to psychoanalyze you, so suck it up, buttercup.” Sanji took his seat once more and lit up his next cigarette. “Hmm, what should I say?” He let the string of the watch intertwine between his knuckles, watching it as though fascinated. “Okay. Difficult.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

“You did it to me, it’s only fair I do it back. This wouldn’t have been a problem had you decided you weren’t all that interested in my psyche, but apparently, you, who doesn’t believe in psychology, decided to take a gamble with my personality by throwing around random words and forcing me to associate them. What if you know my darkest, deepest inner secrets now? I can’t let you run off scot-free, so we’re doing this. I didn’t complain nearly as much as you are now so take it like a man. You _are_ a man, right?”

That was it. Zoro _had_ to do it now, Sanji had just put his manliness into question and therefore all cards were to be thrown on the table. Considering his little faith in psychology, he highly doubted Sanji would come up with anything concrete. 

“Fine, repeat your word.”

“Difficult,” said Sanji, smirking knowing he had won.

“Shitty bastards with curly eyebrows.”

_0.26 seconds._

“You’re allowed to say sentences?”

“I dunno,” Zoro said with a shrug. “It was my first thought though, so it has to count.”

“If long sentences count, then I want a redo!” 

Zoro rolled his eyes. “You don’t get a redo, that’s part of the whole being a shitty bastard with curly eyebrows deal. Now ask— _state_ , your next word.”

Sanji grumbled, but conceded. “Fun.”

“Winning.”

_0.03 seconds._

“Friend.”

“Idiots,” came Zoro’s immediate response. 

_0.02 seconds._

Sanji let out a laugh. Zoro was’t used to hearing it, but he loved it.

“What would they think if they heard you say that to their face?”

“I always say it to their face, it’s no secret Luffy’s as smart as a hammer,” Zoro scoffed.

“Love.”

 _Her._ The word was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back. “Not worth it,” he said instead, forcing down the lump in his throat.

_2.09 seconds._

Sanji laughed once more. “You’re a negative person, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who said love hurts. Moving on?” he pressed. He just wanted Sanji to finish this bullshit analysis so he could finish his dinner and live in peace. Besides, he couldn’t thoroughly dissect everything the cook said with him still in the room, so he had to make this “analysis” of Sanji’s short, before he forgot all of Sanji’s answers. His chest hurt at the pang of _Her._

“Destiny.”

“Bullshit.”

_0.02 seconds._

“Soulmates?”

“Bullshit.”

_0.09 seconds._

“You just said bullshit.”

“And I’ll say it again,” Zoro replied. “Doesn’t make it any less true. What, does that mean I only get one bullshit per psychoanalysis? Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates, Curly Brow?” The swordsman raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Well, no,” Sanji admitted. “But I have my reasons.”

“And so do I, now are we done yet? Or do I have to wait until this food gets cold?”

“One more,” Sanji said. He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for Zoro’s answer before he said, “ _Nakama_.”

Zoro stared Sanji straight in the eye. “You.”

_0.96 seconds._

“What the fuck?”

Zoro smirked. “See how confusing that is?” Zoro threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t ask me to explain, cause I can’t, but when you say _nakama_ , I think of you. Apparently, we both think of each other. Not like it matters or anything,” he added quickly. It couldn’t mean anything. Zoro had absolutely no trust in psychology so this stupid word association game was nothing but to kill time and pretend to know what the other person was thinking. But still, he would never admit it, but hearing Sanji say that he thought of him when someone said “ _nakama_ ” made him sort of, kind of, very insignificantly, almost like the size of that speck that lived on that dandelion fluff in _Horton Hears A Who_ happy.

Of course, knowing it took the cook over seven seconds to figure it out was something he was a bit less enthusiastic about, but he’d take what he could get.

“Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. I Think of Death When Someone Mentions My Favourite Colour With Isn’t a Fucking Colour, It’s a Shade, I’m going to retire because quite frankly, I’m tired and I’ve stuffed my face enough. If I eat anymore of your food, I might become irreversibly bloated and I’m a kendo competitor, not a sumo wrestler.”

With that, he bid the astounded cook goodnight and went into his room, unsure of what to think of the little game they had played.

He fell asleep to the sound of Sanji washing the dishes. 


	10. Rent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> suicidal thoughts? (sort of? It's kind of weird ...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Also, realized I haven't really been warning you about anything cause the last few updates have been kind of while I was half-way out the door to keep up with the schedule. It's no big trouble for me cause more than half to the story is already fully edited, but I keep forgetting to add warnings. I'll get on that better soon.

How long had it been? Three months and a few days? Sanji had known the man for at least a hundred days and had been free-loading at his house— _shit-apartment_ — for almost thirty when he realized something. Rent would have to be paid soon.

Sanji would never admit it aloud, but he was incredibly grateful for what Zoro had done, even if his methods of help weren’t the most orthodox. Sanji would also never admit that Zoro was probably right. He would’ve run away at some point, but he knew that Patty or Carne would’ve caught him and it was the punishment he would get for running away that kept him from leaving. That and Zeff. But Zoro didn’t have to know that. 

Sanji hadn’t worked in almost a month and it was annoying him.

His hands started fidgeting and his eye began to twitch. He couldn’t handle being forced to stay in Zoro’s apartment on his own, with no entertainment other than shitty TV. Though Sanji was no longer at the mercy of those bastard cooks, he was no better on lock-down inside the large apartment that Sanji was still expecting some pretty woman to walk through the door of and demand why the hell Sanji was wearing her apron. There was no way a man as good-looking as Zoro was single. There was no way that a man that good-looking, with that amount of muscle, with that large of a bed could be single. 

It was bugging him. If he was in Zoro’s apartment and he wasn’t allowed to leave, there were very few things to do. This meant that Sanji spent half of his time on the internet, looking up _savate_ , since he had to admit, Zoro and Usopp had gotten his attention, and on the occasion, he’d surf through the occasional cat memes. Yes, he was _that_ bored.

While he was in the middle of watching a cat play with a ball of yarn, he heard the door open. He immediately jumped and spun around, to see Zoro smirking.

“Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

“Middle of what?” Sanji demanded, uncertain if he wanted to know the answer.

“Were you …?” Zoro trailed off.

“Was I …?”

Zoro blushed and turned his head away. “Never mind.”

“No, you brought it up, what is it?”

“It’s nothing!” 

Sanji raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

“I was asking if you were umph,” said Zoro through his hand.

“If I was what?”

“If you were masturbating, okay?!”

Sanji took a step back in shock. Had Zoro just … ?

“You can stop cackling like a hyena,” Zoro muttered. “It wasn’t _that_ amusing.”

“It’s not that,” Sanji said. “It’s just … who calls it masturbating these days?” He let out a light chuckle. “Didn’t know you were so old school, Marimo.”

“Shut up.” He was smiling though.

Sanji took a deep breath, letting the smoke fill his lungs. “So, how long am I going to be stuck here until I’m allowed to work again?”

Zoro dropped his gym bag and stared at Sanji, open mouthed. “What?”

“How long do you intend to keep me here before I’m allowed to go back to the Baratie? No doubt they noticed my absence.”

 _More like they noticed they didn’t have anything to hit when they got frustrated._ But Zoro didn’t need to know that. 

“I’m a fantastic chef and as a result, others will notice when the meal is slightly different than usual. You can’t honestly intend to keep me as your personal cook for life, can you?”

“The thought never even crossed my mind.”

“Liar.”

Zoro put his hands up. “Okay, you caught me.” His tone suddenly went serious as his eyes narrowed. “But seriously, you want to work at the Baratie again? After what those bastards did to you? Don’t you remember?”

Sanji tried to stop himself from shuddering, but he knew he was shaking. 

_Of course I remember, you dumbass! How could I forget what happened? No one forgets their first time, no matter how awful it is! You think I_ **_want_ ** _to go back? The only reason I’m asking is because I’m going fucking insane in your boring-ass apartment that you call a home! You didn’t have to abduct me, you didn’t have to pretend you cared, but you did it anyway, didn’t you, bastard? If I stay here any longer, I might actually start to feel really comfortable and God knows how well it works out once I feel like I have a fighting chance in life! You should've just left me alone, I’m not worth your pity!_

Sanji didn’t dare say it aloud. He knew Zoro would give him a glare and tell him to fuck himself since apparently, for a negative person, Zoro hated it when Sanji was pessimistic. He decided not to read too much into that, though it would hardly change a thing if he did. He was used to disappointment, after all.

Zoro seemed to take Sanji’s silence as an answer.

“You’re not going back to the Baratie,” Zoro told him with a firm glare. “I won’t let you.”

“You won’t _let me_?” Sanji echoed.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Sanji grit his teeth. He had put up with a lot of Zoro’s shit. With his weird habits in the morning and his fridge in constant need of restocking, and his weird-ass friends, but if Zoro wanted to help him, he should know that holding him hostage wasn’t going to do anything. 

“You need to stay here, at least until your mental health reaches a level that I’m satisfied with and when you’re associating things like ‘friend’ with nothing and yet you have an answer for ‘ _nakama_ ’, that’s reason enough for me to hold you hostage!”

“So you admit this is hostage-holding!”

“Shut up!” It seemed that was Zoro’s default answer when his mind went blank.

Zoro was a very easy person to read, surprisingly. He let his emotions get the better of him rather often and even if he tried to shield his face of all emotions, his eyes would twitch or some other horrible habit he was probably unaware of gave him away. 

“Okay, I won’t ask to go back to the Baratie—”

“And the cook sees sense!”

“—if you let me pay part of the rent.”

Zoro’s jaw dropped. Literally. It was quite funny. Sanji had thought you could only see that shit in anime.

Sanji could already tell that once Zoro got over the shock, he’d refuse, point-blank, that Sanji pay. But the green-haired man had to be nearly broke at this rate. The costly meals at the Baratie, the fact that he hadn't had a single competition in the last while also meant he was short on money. If what Nami said was true, then maybe he was earning money off those fights at that place … Partys, was it? But no, Zoro was strictly against gaining money from innocent people. Fuck, the man had to be broke!

“No way!” Zoro declared the moment he managed to gather his surroundings. “That’s not happening.”

“If you think I’m short on money, I’m not,” Sanji defended himself. “I’m an assistant cook, you think I’m yen-less?” He shook his head. “No, I’m sent to do groceries, I have to have some dough on me. When the Head’s out, I cover the costs to maintain the restaurant. Old geezer that he is hasn’t shown up in a while, but I still get my pay. I can pay the rent for you, or at least we can each go half-way. It’s the least I can do for free-loading.”

Zoro shook his head. “One day you think you’ve been kidnapped, a few days later, you're fine with it, but the moment I start to fight you on rent, you pull the free-loader card?” Zoro sighed. “Don’t ask me to understand you, it’s too much for me.”

“Of course your Marimo brain can’t wrap itself around it, but I _do_ have money. And since I haven’t been able to leave this shitty apartment, I have even more money than usual. I know the ingredients I ask for aren’t cheap and yet you insist on paying for them all. I want to help pay the rent, that’s all. Why won’t you let me?”

“I’m not a charity case!” Zoro snapped.

“You can barely afford to keep two people under this shitty roof, get over your damn pride, shitty swordsman, as tough as that must be for you, and let me help out, okay? I don’t offer a helping hand often, you should be flattered I’m even persisting this much.”

“You’re a stubborn little asshole, aren’t you?” Zoro demanded. “Either way, I won’t accept your money.”

“Get over your damn pride, bastard!” Sanji snapped.

Sanji hadn't asked for Zoro's help. He hadn’t asked to be taken from the kitchen and brought to his home. He didn’t beg Zoro to put a secure roof over his head, to get him away from those bastard cooks. He didn’t tell Zoro a sob story so he could get sympathy and a secure environment. He didn’t do a fucking thing to make Zoro think that he needed or wanted his help.

_Lie._

_He saw. He saw you that day. He saw the way Patty beat you and he worried. He saw the scars on your wrists and he got scared. You told him yourself about those nightmares. You told him what they did to you, and even if you weren’t the most clear about it, he’s not as stupid as you think he is. He figured it out._

_Sure, he cares, but_ **_why_ ** _does he care?_

_He’s got no reason. No fucking reason at all to try and get in my head. He didn't need to pull a psychology stunt, but he did anyway. How is he so trusting? There’s something wrong with him! How can he just let someone in without doing a background check or anything? He never presses enough. When I say to drop the conversation, he does. Why the fuck does he do that? He wants to know, I know he does. So why the fuck doesn’t he ask?_

_Because he knows you’ll be uncomfortable._

_Fuck, he’s being nice for the sake of my_ **_comfort_ ** _? What the hell?! Who is this sick bastard? What does he want from me? He has to want something,_ **_everyone_ ** _wants something in return for acts of kindness as big as this idiot’s. No one takes someone under their wing, gives them free food and a place to stay, introduces them to their friends and comforts them after nightmares, no one tries to understand someone for the sake of wanting to know more! There has to be more,_ **_there has to be_ ** _!_

_Wait. Is he trying to lure me into a sense of security? Is that his goal? Does he think if I feel safe, I’m more bendable? Is he trying to get me to trust him? So that he can cut my throat in the middle of the night? Is he planning something? Maybe that vacant look of not understanding is just an act?_

Zoro scratched his head and tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he pressed.

Scratch that. No one can fake that level of stupidity.

“I need to clear my head.”

Sanji slammed the door behind him as he left.

* * *

It was cold outside. 

Sanji wasn’t wearing nearly enough layers, but he’d be damned if he turned back around. He wouldn’t. He had too much pride for that. The wind bit at his skin, but he pushed on. He’d find his own way. Living with Zoro was nice, but it was too nice. It let him believe he could depend on him, when Sanji had known ever since he was young the only one he could trust was himself. 

He felt weak, like he had hurt his lungs with all his screaming and had drained himself of his energy. He needed food. He needed warmth. He needed shelter.

But he couldn’t go back.

It would be too easy to slip into Zoro’s hospitality. It was a nice dream while it lasted, but Sanji had to stand on his own. No one ever hung around forever, Zoro was enough to be a kick-starter for him to get himself together. 

Sanji swayed.

He had been walking for hours, turning down streets and streets. He didn’t know where he was. He had left in a huff without any money. He had no way to contact anyone but who would he call anyway? It wasn’t like he had any friends. 

His cigarette had burnt out a few blocks ago and he was aching for another fix. He couldn’t though, his pack was on the guest bedroom’s nightstand. 

Everything was temporary. 

It was getting dark and he wouldn’t be able to see soon. He hated when it got dark.

In the dark was when the shadows came. When the puppet master played, pulling the strings, turning the most innocent looking tree into a hideous monster. His bones ached and he didn’t see anywhere he could go for quick shelter. 

The streets were full of people, but he felt so alone. So cold. So numb.

His eyelids flittered, but he tried to force them open.

_Why?_

What was the point? No one would miss him. The scars on his wrists ached, the wind brushed against his skin as if ripping the wounds open again. It would be so easy, just to stop. He didn’t have to continue.

It would be so nice just to sleep.

“SANJI!”

Sanji swayed. Before he could hit the ground, a warm body was holding him up. “Fucking bastard,” the person said, “are you insane? Walking around in this weather without a jacket? Do you _want_ to die?”

“Let me … let me sleep,” Sanji mumbled. “Just … just for a minute.”

“Sanji, no, keep your eyes open—”

“Just for a second …”

Sanji fell asleep.

* * *

Sanji woke up back where he started, in Zoro’s guest bedroom.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Sanji snapped. 

“Gee, thanks Zoro for saving me. No, I didn’t know I was slowly getting hypothermia, thank you for looking after me and my sorry ass!”  

“I sound nothing like that.”

“Whatever. I take you in, and then you go out and nearly die in the streets? Do you know how hard it was to find you?”

Sanji turned away and jutted out his chin.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Don’t move from that bed, you hear me? And don’t you dare fucking scare me like that again.” Zoro tossed him his cigarettes. “Here, figured you could use your fix, you ungrateful bastard.”

The only reason Sanji had done it was _because_ he was grateful. He could go on and on about how he needed to get away from Zoro’s kindness before he got too used to it, but in truth, it may have had something to do with the fact that he was a huge burden to him and he knew it. 

He was doing Zoro a favour, trying to off himself before Zoro realized how _not worth it_ Sanji was. Before he woke up and it dawned on him that he was wasting his time.

Somehow he had managed to fuck even that up, which was just so typical of him.

He had to make it up to him, somehow.

* * *

The longer he sat there, festering in the sheets, Sanji felt more and more vulnerable. 

Maybe Zoro wasn’t the villain Sanji’s mind was convinced he was. Maybe Zoro didn't have a long black cape that hid him in the shadows of darkness and he didn’t go out murdering people for the heck of it. Maybe he wasn’t some lunatic swordsman who fought with a million swords and cut people down in mere seconds. Besides, how sharp could his blades be if he competed in kendo? They were wooden swords, there was no danger in it, right?

Maybe he could admit that he was wrong and Zoro was looking out for him.

It was weird to admit to it.

But instead of feeling vulnerable for admitting he was wrong, instead of feeling embarrassed for having acted in such a childish manner, instead of feeling weak for accepting one’s help, he didn’t feel anything like that. Not even close. He didn’t feel as though he had broken or surrendered in admitting that maybe someone cared. He didn’t feel as though he wasn’t able to breathe, knowing someone saw him weak and gave him sympathy in return.

Because what Zoro did wasn’t sympathetic.

What Zoro did was confrontational. He had seen a problem and after attempting to speak to him about, he had taken action. Nothing Zoro had ever done made Sanji feel as though he was being looked down upon. Nothing Zoro ever did made Sanji feel as though he was being pitied. Zoro looked after him in a way that was so open and yet so discreet at the same time, he didn’t even know how to describe it. He’d almost call it what Zeff did, but that wasn’t right.

Zoro didn’t force him to get back up when he was down, he didn’t teach Sanji to stand on both feet. He didn’t teach Sanji that being weak was being defeated. Though these were things that helped Sanji push himself forward during those horrible nights, that wasn’t what Sanji was given by Zoro. 

Zoro taught him the complete opposite. 

It was okay to need to recuperate. You weren’t weak because you had been winded, you were strong because you acknowledged you needed that time to wait and recover before standing up again. It was being defeated and standing up again that made you strong, not refusing to be beaten until you couldn’t stand. It was admitting you weren’t good enough, but having the determination to get stronger and look at the “defeat” as a positive thing. As a lesson.

Zoro taught Sanji that it was okay to need to catch your breath. No one was going to shun you because you couldn’t always keep up. Zoro had seen Sanji cry before. Sanji didn’t like it, but he knew he had been crying on some occasions during those nightmares. Zoro never pointed it out, never called him weak because of it. Sanji remembered a saying he had once heard from Zeff.

_“People cry not because they’re weak. It’s because they’ve been strong for too long.”_

Zeff had laughed at it, saying that maybe that was true, but maybe they were just cry-babies.

Zoro made Sanji believe in it. Maybe Sanji _had_ been trying to stand on his own for too long. Maybe he had been trying to fight a losing battle and came out scarred and bruised. Maybe he was hopeless at the current moment, but that didn’t make him weak. That didn’t make him any less respectable. That didn’t make him any less _strong_.

But the question now was how did one repay kindness? How did Sanji deal with someone caring for him? And besides, maybe this was one of those macho things that Sanji just never understood, maybe Zoro didn’t _want_ to be thanked for what he did, maybe he just wanted to pretend it was part of his character that very few people saw and just keep up the whole “tall, dark and handsome” appeal. It certainly worked.

How did Sanji repay Zeff in a way that didn’t offend him? How did he tell him he was grateful without insulting him? How did Sanji show gratitude without seeming weak? Without showing too much? When was the last time Sanji had something to be grateful for?

He knew what to do.

He just hoped Zoro appreciated it.

* * *

Sanji had never attempted to make anything like this before in his life. 

No, that was a lie. He had tried to do it once about three or four years ago. Zeff had stared at the plate and spat in his face about it. Sanji wasn’t sure if he could handle Zoro’s reaction if it was anything like the old man’s.

When Zoro came in through the front door, Sanji held his breath.

The swordsman was sweaty, his clothes wet and he was dragging his feet, obviously tired. He dropped his bag onto the floor and carefully put down— was that _three_ sheaths?— on the couch gently. He then proceeded to collapse on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

_Hey, Marimo, take notice of the atmosphere, would you?_

Zoro spotted him and growled. “The fuck are you doing out of bed?”

“It’s been three days, I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that—“ Suddenly, Zoro’s head perked up, his nose up in the air as he smelt his surroundings. “What is that?”

Sanji took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. 

“Love Cook, what is that?”

He wasn’t going to be a bastard. Just because he was anxiously anticipating a reaction towards the meal and just cause he had spent the better part of three hours working on it didn’t mean he had to be an asshole about this. He could be calm, he could be rational.

“Food.”

_And the asshole takes over. Smart Sanji, smart._

Sanji shook his head, trying to kill the voice in the back of his mind. “I um, figured you’d be hungry, you’ve been away for a while and you look tired. Thought I’d make something.”

“You always make something,” Zoro pointed out, getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen, his steps slow, his feet dragging against the hard-wood floor. When he entered the kitchen, he froze. “What the fuck?”

Sanji chewed the tip of his cigarette, on edge.

The table was set with various different dishes, some of which Zoro knew of, some of which Zoro didn’t. It was like a feast of some of the greatest delicacies that Sanji knew how to cook and some he had learnt online through shitty recipes. He had tasted just about everything beforehand, but then again, his tastebuds and Zoro’s weren’t the same, were they? Perhaps something Sanji thought was presentable was too spicy to the Marimo, or something else along those lines. He waited, trying not to hold his breath.

“What is this?” asked Zoro.

“Food.”

_Again with the asshole comments. I should just sew my mouth shut, shouldn’t I?_

“I can see that, cook,” Zoro said. “I mean why is there so much?”

“Thought you’d be hungry.”

“Shit, Sanji, this is like a meal fit for a king!”

“I know, so you should be glad I’m giving it to you, Marimo.”

That was it. Sanji had decided it. He was never to open his mouth around the green-haired swordsman ever again, lest he say something even more stupid.

Zoro took a seat at the table and stared at it. “How long … how long did this take you to make?”

“Not long.”

“Liar,” Zoro called him out on it.

“Just a couple of hours,” Sanji corrected himself. He didn’t want the idiot to think he had spent his whole day in the kitchen for him, even if that was the case. Something about him knowing just how much time and thought he had put into the meal before him made it too intimate for Sanji to handle so instead, he chewed a bit harder on his cigarette.

“A couple of _hours_?” Zoro repeated. “Don’t just blow it off like it’s nothing,” he said. “That’s … that’s serious dedication. What’s the occasion?”

“I can’t do something cause I want to anymore? What happened to being a free country?”

He had just done what he considered a big gesture to Zoro and he himself was ruining it by saying such idiotic things. He needed to learn to keep quiet before he sank into the floor with embarrassment. Or maybe that was best, now that he thought about it.

“I can’t …” Zoro stared at the plate in front of him with an utter loss for words. Though Sanji didn’t want him to, he was pretty sure he realized the significance of the meal. “I can’t accept this.”

_SMACK!_

Zoro fell out of his seat and hit the ground to see Sanji standing over him, letting his foot drop to the floor.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Just shut up and eat it,” Sanji snapped. “Zoro.”

Zoro stared at him.

"I didn't slave over a hot stove and oven for you to be an ass about it so shut up and eat up.”

Zoro smirked. "And here I was thinking we had come to an understanding of some sort. You sure know how to ruin a kind gesture, eh, Curlicue?”

Sanji snarled. "Get up."

Zoro did as told without complaint. He sat down once more and stared at the meal in front of him. " _Itadakimatsu_ " was all he said before digging in.

Sanji wasn't going to lie. Zoro's table manners were still atrocious. He still wanted to cringe as he watched Zoro eat. He used his fork in an appalling way and the amount of noise he made while enjoying his meal was beyond disgusting. But Sanji saw the way Zoro's eyes widened when he ate something new. He saw the way he melted into his seat when he ate something incredibly satisfying and in the confines of his own apartment, Zoro didn't hold back moaning, tossing his head back and leaving his neck incredibly exposed.

Sanji wasn't sure why, but the slope of tanned skin that was now accessible to him sent a shiver down his spine that wasn't entirely unpleasant. "Good?" he teased.

"You know your cooking's amazing," Zoro grumbled, taking a deep gulp from his glass. He paused and swallowed, staring at the glass strangely before glancing at Sanji. "What is this?"

“Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac Grande Champagne.”

Zoro gave him a blank look.

"Champagne."

Zoro snorted. "Figured. It's just like you to make alcohol sound obnoxious." He pushed the glass away. "I'm trying to quit. I’ve been doing well, I don't want to relapse into bad habits."

Sanji shook his head. "Champagne isn't as strong as beer. At most, you might get a slight buzz. Or are you telling me you can't hold your liquor?”

“Don't tempt me."

"Fine, don't drink the champagne," Sanji conceded. "But at least let me do one thing and then you can spill the expensive stuff down the drain."

Zoro's eyes widened. "How expensive?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

Zoro sighed. "Fine, whatever. Do what you want."

Sanji poured himself a small amount of champagne into his glass. He raised it into the air and Zoro raised an eyebrow.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"It's called a toast, Marimo," Sanji said, rolling his eyes. "You raise your glass to mine after I say what we're toasting to and clink glasses." He sighed. "Honestly, no class."

Zoro grumbled and raised his glass. "I don't see the point, but fine."

Sanji chewed his already well-bitten cigarette before taking a deep breath. "To new friendship."

Zoro stared at him in shock but raised his glass all the same. The two glasses made a soft clinking sound before they both drank the contents of their glasses.

The silence was comfortable until Zoro broke it.

"You're still not paying rent."


	11. Everyone Was Sword-Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh, violence?  
> I mean, it's all consensual violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. 1/4th of this story has chapter titles that reference songs. I have a playlist. I did research for kendo for the beginning portion, but it's really annoying and it's only 300 words. Now here's where I add in the fun parts of this story (hopefully it was fun before).

Zoro realized that spending almost a month and a half inside a "shitty apartment" as Sanji put it would drive anyone insane so that was the reason why the blond was now sitting in the stands as Zoro sized up his newest opponent.

Yes, Zoro had brought Sanji to a kendo match.

Zoro had learnt that Sanji had never seen a kendo match before since he didn’t watch TV and the cook had concluded that kendo was a sport in which men grunted and smacked each other with wooden sticks. Zoro told him he had to see it to understand what it was like and then practically shoved the ticket to him, telling him that he was coming whether or not he wanted to so Luffy was going to pick him up at six and he’d better not be late.

Only Sanji would turn up to a kendo tournament wearing something as stylish as a suit. Idiot didn’t understand that no one really cared what you looked like when the competitors were wearing _bōgu_. Finding the man amongst the many spectators was not hard when his blond hair stood out amongst the sea of dark, even if he wasn’t wearing the suit.

His opponent, Cabaji, was known to be a rather … _eccentric_ man who enjoyed playing tricks on his opponent before a match and often during. Today though it was almost certain he’d play fair seeing as there were over a thousand spectators and the _shinpans_ had keen eyes, as proven by other matches they had refereed. 

Before the match had begun, the man had already tried to light Zoro’s _hakama_ on fire. Zoro had decided since it was Sanji's first ever match, he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. It wasn’t like Cabaji had succeeded anyway and Zoro wouldn’t be intimidated by something that pathetic.

One of the refs raised an arm and told them they may begin.

It was perhaps two seconds before everything was over. Using the _katsugi-waza_ manoeuvre to quickly gain a point, Zoro struck down on his opposition.

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as the three referees raised a red flag.

_A direct_ **_men-bu_ ** _strike so early on? This guy isn’t that big of a deal, is he?_

The second round started and Zoro’s eyes wandered to the crowd for a brief moment. They landed on the cook, who was leaning in his seat, trying to get a better look. **_Baka_** _, you’re in the best seats of the house. Luffy, I’m trusting you to make sure he doesn’t fall over_. He seemed amazed by the competition, as though he had never seen such a fight before when Zoro remembered he hadn’t.

Cabaji made an attempt at a _tobikomi-waza,_ but he wasn’t fast enough. 

_Seriously, does this guy practice any of his_ **_shikake-waza_ ** _?_

Zoro made a quick _nuki-waza_ and once again, all three referees declared him the winner of another point.

_He leaves his_ **_datotsu-bui_ ** _so open, no wonder he's easy to beat. I can understand why he uses cheap tactics to catch the other off-guard, but sideshows won’t work on me._

The third and final round started. 

Right when Cabaji made an attempt to use a _hikibana-waza,_ Zoro countered with _debana-waza,_ thus winning the match.

_God, that was boring, hope Sanji didn’t fall asleep._

* * *

“Zoro!”

The green-haired man turned at the sound of his name and was almost instantly enveloped by Luffy’s arms as he hugged him tightly. “That was a great match!” the dark haired man said with a laugh. “Really!”

“It was short,” Zoro told him. Trying not to seem too anxious, Zoro looked around. Nami was coming forth, rolling her eyes and wearing that expression that said quite clearly, “my boyfriend’s an idiot, but I have no one to blame but myself”, with a bouquet of flowers for Zoro. Honestly, flowers made him look so … _un-masculine_. If that was a word. Probably not though. Usopp was busy talking to one of the other competitors, probably saying some big-ass lie about how he was a kendo champ, back in the day and the most fearsome competitors feared the name of the Great Usopp. 

“Um, Luffy, where’s—”

“Sanji?” Luffy finished for him.

Zoro tried not to blush. Was it that obvious he was looking for the blond?

“He’s still in the stands. I think he’s in shock.” Luffy gave Zoro a knowing look that the swordsman didn’t even know his idiotic friend had. “You wanna see him?”

“No, I was just—”

“Zoro, it’s okay to want to talk to him,” Luffy cut him off. “Me and Nami will wait, alright? And Usopp’s pretty busy, talking to that big guy, he’ll hardly realize you’re gone.”

“Nami and I,” Zoro corrected. He wasn’t sure why, but when he got overly-anxious, he tended to be a grammar Nazi. What was he even getting anxious about? It was just Sanji!

Luffy rolled his eyes. “Okay big guy.” He pat Zoro on the shoulder. “We’ll be waiting, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Zoro replied in a distracted voice.

His feet didn’t seem to move fast enough, or slow enough for that matter. Each step he took was at a normal pace and yet his mind told him it was taking forever while at the same time, informing him he was walking too quickly. 

What if Sanji hadn't liked the match? It had been brief, there was hardly any time to watch an impressive showdown. What if he turned Sanji against kendo forever? Not that it really mattered since the cook didn’t seem to take much interest in Zoro’s personal life in the first place, but what if he was now living with someone who had something against his career? Dammit, what the fuck was he thinking?

When he finally got into the arena again, it didn’t take him long to spot Sanji.

The blond was sitting on a bench, staring at the mats on which the “battle” had taken place. He seemed to be mumbling incoherently to himself.

Zoro cleared his throat to announced his presence when—

_SMACK!_

“Fuck, you _need_ to stop doing that!” Zoro said, holding his cheek. “Stop wearing shoes!”

“Shit, does it hurt?” Sanji asked, his brow creasing in what Zoro hoped was concern. He _did_ say they were friends, after all. “It’s a reflex.”

“Does it hurt?” Zoro repeated. “ _Does it hurt?_ ” He shook his head. “Oh no, I’ve gotten so used to getting kicked in the face, I’ve developed an immunity to pain! A high tolerance towards crazy black boots striking me out of nowhere, I don’t even notice anymore! Hell, I’ve become fucking numb to it!” The sad thing was he was telling the truth. “Okay, now that you’ve smacked me with your foot, wanna tell me why you’re here when everyone else is over there?” He gestured with his thumb towards the changing rooms, where several people whom had their matches before Zoro’s were being congratulated. 

“I have an uncannily horrible sense of direction?” 

“Come on, Cook, talk.”

Sanji was quiet for a while, staring around the arena once more. 

Zoro was about to prod him for more, when Sanji spoke himself.

“I look fucking ridiculous, don’t I?”

“To the average person? No. To a room filled with kendo fans? Hell yeah.”

Sanji chuckled softly. “I didn’t really come here willingly, you know. Your straw-hat friend dragged me here,” Sanji pointed out. “Threatened me with some talk with Nami. Apparently, she can get scary at times, though I don’t understand how a woman that pretty can have as sharp of a tongue as Luffy claims.”

Zoro ignored the twinge of _something_ in the pit of his stomach.

Instead, he dug his foot into the ground, as though trying to dig a hole to China. China probably wasn’t far enough though, but with its large population, maybe he’d blend in and not have to worry about hearing Sanji tell him that kendo was the bane of his existence. Who was he fucking kidding, he had green hair, there was no way anyone was going to miss that.

“They won’t let me smoke in here,” Sanji said with a frown. 

“Second hand smoking is worse than first hand. With how much I let you smoke in my house, I won’t be surprised if I die before you.”

“It’s not a house, it’s a shit-apartment,” Sanji corrected him.

“How could I forget?”

There was silence and then the now-familiar sound of a lighter burning. Sanji let out a satisfied sigh as he let out a puff of smoke. 

He waited for Sanji to say something about the match, but he seemed to be dancing around the topic.

Fuck, he hated it, didn't he?

Zoro was about to apologize for wasting Sanji’s time when the blond spoke again.

“You know, when I thought I’d be leaving the shit-apartment for the first time, I didn’t think it’d be because I was being forced to go to some sporting event.” Sanji took a deep breath and Zoro stayed silent, waiting for the blond to pass judgment on Zoro’s career. “They don’t record the matches, do they? Like the way they’ll record a basketball game and put it on TV?”

“What, you think kendo isn’t worthy of being televised?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that in games like basketball or baseball, they have a couple of moments where the cameras scan the crowds, right? Do like a wave-shot or something. If that tape gets on TV …”

Zoro realized Sanji’s concern. If the tape was let out to the public, that would mean that Sanji would be on it. No doubt the Baratie was wondering where the fuck he was and they probably hadn’t forgotten about Zoro. To see Sanji— who stuck out like a sore thumb— at a kendo match where Zoro was competing? That couldn’t just be a coincidence. The cooks could find him, couldn’t they? 

Zoro felt his heart race. Fuck, he had screwed up. Now the cooks were going to hunt Sanji down and find him. They were going to take him away from Zoro— wait. Why did his stomach clench at the thought? Why did he see red when he thought of Sanji being taken away from him? It didn’t make sense. Zoro shook his head and instead took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. For the first time in his life, he actually itched for a cigarette. It seemed to calm Sanji down a lot, maybe it’d work for him too?

_Fuck, he’s rubbing off on me._

“I’m so sorry,” Zoro said, launching himself into an apology when Sanji said something that surprised him.

“I think I just made a fucking fool of myself on TV.”

_Wait, what?_

“I think I might have actually fallen out of my seat at one point,” Sanji admitted sheepishly. “I saw the whole competition, you know. All the others who were fighting too. Your match had to be the shortest one.” Sanji smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head, Marimo, but you were pretty fucking incredible.”

Zoro’s jaw dropped.

Sanji’s smirk only widened. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not very bright, are you?” Sanji asked. “I hate to admit it, but I think I nearly pissed myself in excitement. Luffy was holding me from randomly jumping up and screaming. Nami stepped on my heels so I wouldn’t kick him off,” he added. “Smart woman, knowing I’d never hit a lady.” He gave Zoro a strange look. “What are you apologizing for? That was probably the most fun I’ve ever had.”

_Tongue, work. Form words._

It didn’t listen to him.

“I’ve worked at the Baratie for a long time. Since I was about nine. Where I lived before that … well, they didn’t really do things like take kids out to the movies. You’ve seen the cooks. They’re not the kind of people who’ll bring you to a carnival and hold your hand on the big scary rides. I’ve never been to anything like this before. I … I had a good time.”

Sanji had just revealed more about himself in the past five minutes than he had ever revealed in the four months Zoro had known him. And— was the blond _blushing_? His cheeks were pale to begin with and there was no denying the slightly pink colour that arose as he turned his head away.

Sanji had had fun?

Zoro couldn't help but feel accomplished.

“You have real swords, though, don’t you? Like, swords besides _shinais_ ,” Sanji said, breaking the silence and changing the topic. It was abrupt and sudden, but Zoro didn’t practically mind. He liked talking to this Sanji, the one who was unguarded, or at least, a little less on the defensive. “Wado, that was the one you nearly killed me with the first night, right?”

“Wado Ichimonji,” Zoro said softly. “Yeah.”

“Where’d you get it? It looks expensive.”

“She … she was a gift. From a friend of mine.” Zoro swallowed, his throat going dry.

“It’s very pretty.”

“Yeah. So was she…”

“Was?”

Nami was right, he had to talk about it at some point. He forced the words out, trying not to choke on them. “She … died a while ago.” 

Sanji was quiet.

Zoro couldn’t find the words he needed to say how grateful he was for the silence. It hurt every day to think about _Her_. Sanji’s cigarettes and spices had taken over his apartment, though the trace of Her scent had long since faded, it almost made it easier to bear. Knowing She was gone didn’t make living without Her any easier.  

“So if you have a sword like that, you have to use it somewhere, right?” Sanji said, suddenly, changing the topic. Zoro looked at him gratefully. “It looked recently used and everything. You take good care of your swords.” He paused. “You don’t go out killing people with them, do you?”

Zoro scoffed. “No, I don’t. I just fight with them.”

“Fight?”

“Yeah,” Zoro checked his watch. “It’s still pretty early, ten and all. You wanna go somewhere?” 

Sanji gasped, holding a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. “You’re going to let me out of the shit-apartment to two different locations in one night? Is it my birthday?”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Shut up, do you want to go or not?”

Sanji gave him a soft smile, something Zoro had never seen before. It transformed his facial features completely, and was … refreshing? Fascinating? Surprising? It was certainly and most definitely not beautiful. No, no way did he find the cook looked beautiful under the stadium lights, shining off his golden hair, making him look beautifully handsome and stunning and— no. _No_.

“Sure.”

The word slipped out of his lips almost sounding … _seductive_. Zoro shook his head. He wouldn’t let himself think about it. Instead, he held out a hand for Sanji. “Get up, we’re going.”

Sanji ignored his hand, standing up on his own and dusting off his pants.

_When are you going to trust me?_

“I call shot-gun.”

"What do you mean shot-gun? It’s _my_ car!”

“And you’ll get lost, which is why I’m going to find out where we’re going and drive us there because you’re shit when it comes to directions,” Sanji said factually. He ruffled Zoro’s hair, or, more accurately, his fingers grazed the top of his head gently, like a light brush of wind. He didn’t think about how Sanji’s hands felt in his hair. Nope. Not at all. 

“Luffy was your ride here— oh shit, _Luffy_!” Immediately, Zoro’s eyes flew towards the direction of the changing rooms where Luffy, Nami and Usopp were exiting.

Luffy didn’t seem upset in the least, despite the fact that Zoro had completely forgotten about his existence, which wasn’t easy, considering how noisy and loud he was. He gave Zoro his signature smile and laughed.

“So we’re going to Partys?”

* * *

“What kind of place is it?” Sanji asked from the driver’s seat as Zoro sat in the passenger seat with a frown on his face. The bastard wouldn’t let him drive his own damn car! How was that fucking fair? 

Luffy had given Sanji the directions to Partys, much to Zoro’s chagrin. The whole point of going there was to surprise Sanji!

“Not telling.”

“Oh don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re a kicked puppy,” Sanji replied. “Pouting doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not pouting!” Zoro snapped.

“Sure you aren’t.”

Nami and Usopp were heading to Partys in Luffy’s car, which he drove in front of Sanji, which made Zoro feel as though he was obligated to drive. If all he had to do was follow the straw-hat’s car, it wasn't that hard to find the place. Despite the various times Zoro had been there, he had yet to manage to get there without asking Luffy for directions and then having the dark haired man guide him to the bar through the phone. It was like Zoro’s memory reset itself every time he got in the car, forcing him to forget route after route. The only route he had memorized was the one to the Baratie. It was a wonder he got to his matches on time.

They turned onto a different street.

“So … you won’t tell me where we’re going, even if I’m driving. That could be disastrous, I could end up driving us into a wall or something. Luffy makes really jerky turns you know.”

“I know,” Zoro said, flashbacks of riding backseat in Luffy’s car and having an intense make-out session with his disgusting window hitting him in waves.

“How about we play a little game?” Sanji offered.

“If you think I’m going to play I Spy, you’re out of your mind.”

“No, not that. Have you ever played the Yes, No, Maybe game?” 

“What do you do in your spare time?” Zoro asked, giving Sanji a strange look.

“Besides watching cat memes and _Hetalia_? Not much. Well, I looked up _500 Things To Do When Bored,_ but I don’t know how to be ‘orange’. Who would want to be orange anyway? It’s an eyesore and covering yourself in Cheetos isn’t exactly favourable.”

“The fuck?”

“This is what happens when you put me on house arrest.”

“Yes, because you act so rationally when I leave you alone. Do I need to remind you about the whole hypothermia thing again?” Sanji was quiet. “Exactly. So what, was this weirdoes game on that stupid list?”

“No,” Sanji admitted. “I come up with games on the occasion. Anyway, the Yes, No, Maybe game works like this: I ask you a yes or no question. You can’t say yes, no, or maybe. You can use any other way to reply, but you can’t use it twice. Whoever screws up first loses. Fair enough?”

“Why should I play?”

“Because I’m bored and it seems like it's going to take a while.”

Zoro sighed, leaning back into his seat in resignation. “Fine. I suppose you can start.”

“Are you gay?”

“WHAT?!”

There had been no hesitation with Sanji’s question, none at all. Zoro knew for sure that he was as straight as a board, but Sanji seemed to laugh at his answer.

“Okay, you can’t use that response again. Your turn. Ask me a question.”

“What makes you think I'm gay?” Zoro demanded.

“That’s not a yes or no question,” Sanji told him. “You lose, I win.” 

Zoro rolled his eyes. “What kind of a question is that? _Are you gay?_ ” Zoro mimicked him.

“Honestly,” Sanji said with a sigh. “It’s been like, four months at least. You’d think you’d get better at impersonating me, but really, I think you’ve gotten worse.” He turned another corner. “That was a question that's meant to trip up the other person, leave them baffled and allow me to win by default. Of course, it didn’t work with that one customer who actually _was_ gay …” Sanji shook his head. “Play again?”

“Fine. Since I’ve got nothing better to do. Who starts?”

“Well, since I won, you start. As the loser, I’ll let you have the advantage of having the first chance to make me screw up.”

Zoro didn’t put much thought into his question. “Are _you_ gay?”

“Nope.” 

Sanji didn’t even blink. “My turn. Do you have any other swords, besides Wado?”

Zoro tried not to fume too much at how unaffected Sanji seemed from his question. With gritted teeth, he said, “Definitely. Is black a colour?”

“To me it is. Is all of your hair green?”

“Perhaps. Have you ever fought in a real fight before?”

“Define the word ‘fight’. Are you fluent in French?”

“More or less. Do you know any other languages besides Japanese?”

“Latin. Do you think Latin’s dead?”

“Do you think Latin was ever alive?” Zoro shot back.

“Fair point. Are any of your parents French?”

“I have green hair, you think French people have green hair?”

“I’ve never been to France, so I wouldn’t know.”

There was silence.

Then, they both started laughing.

The rest of the ride to Partys had the both of them playing Sanji’s game, Yes, No, Maybe. The total score was three wins for Sanji, zero wins for Zoro. To be fair, the main reason Zoro kept losing was because he ended up running out of questions or it ended up taking him too long to answer. 

When they rounded the corner and Zoro finally found the street to be somewhat familiar, he felt a sense of dread in him. Did that mean the game was over?

“Okay, my turn,” Sanji said. “Do you think I’m hot?”

“WHAT?!”

Sanji smirked. “You lose. You already gave me that answer when I asked you if you had ever taken it up the ass. Is this the place?” 

Partys Bar was like an old fashion pub that seemed slightly out of place amidst the modern architecture of Tokyo. Zoro had fallen in love with the place at first sight because it looked so modest and old-fashioned. Maybe Sanji was right, maybe Zoro did like things a little old school. He didn’t know why, but whenever he walked into the bar he felt like he was returning to an extension of his family. It was like a big old reunion, one that didn't make him cringe when distant relatives pinched his cheeks and his annoying brat cousins asked him for the thousandth time whether or not his hair was actually green. He knew old fashioned suited him just fine, but he wasn't so sure about Sanji.

Zoro peeked at the blond out of the corner of his eye, anxiously awaiting his response.

“I thought you were trying to quit. Isn’t this counter-productive?”

Well if that wasn’t fucking vague, Zoro didn’t know what was.

With a grunt, Zoro pushed open the door and got out, slamming it shut behind him. “Get out, Dart Brow. Makino’s going to like seeing a new face around here.”

Sanji got out of the car and walked with Zoro into the bar.

The inside looked even more rustic than the exterior. It was like being thrown into the Wild West, or something out of the pirate era. There were barrels of beer and wooden tables, a pretty young lady standing behind the counter. Her grin widened when she spotted Zoro.

“Hey, Zoro, you here for a drink?”

“Trying to quit,” Zoro reminded her. 

“Who’s your guest?” 

Sanji gave her a big smile and Zoro found he was back to faking it. He walked to the bar and leaned over the counter, taking Makino’s hand in his. He gave her a quick kiss on the back of her hand. “Sanji,” he introduced himself. “And who might you be?”

Makino raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a charmer here, don’t you?” She smiled. “I’m Makino, Partys’ barmaid.”

Sanji nodded. “Enchanted.”

“Come on, Love Cook,” Zoro said, taking Sanji’s arm and pulling him away from the bar. “We aren’t here for the booze.” He turned to Makino. “The captain should be coming any second now, but could we go ahead, if you don’t mind?”

Sanji gaped. “You have manners?”

Makino let out a light giggle. “I was shocked when I found out too, he doesn’t look like the kind who uses ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’, does he?” 

“Can we discuss my lack of manners later? He hasn’t even seen anything yet,” Zoro said, slightly impatient. 

“And you’re back to your old asshole self. Was I dreaming a few second ago?” Sanji teased.

“Shut up,” Zoro snapped. “Anyway, can we, Makino?” 

Makino nodded. “It’s a bit crowded down there, but you should be fine. Did you bring your swords?”

“Nah,” Zoro replied. “I’m not fighting tonight, but I thought maybe the Cook would like to see what I get up to when I’m not at the gym.”

Makino raised an eyebrow. “Really?” She gave Zoro a funny look, one he realized he recognized. _Oh God no, not her too._ “I never pictured you to go that way, but he seems to make you happy. It’s been a while since you’ve put yourself out there, hasn’t it?”

Zoro shook his head profusely. “No, I’m not— we’re not …” For some reason, Zoro’s tongue wouldn't work. He couldn't figure out what to say without sounding overly-flustered, which would cause the barmaid to think that he was lying about the whole thing.

“Haven’t seen you this tongue-tied since you got into fights with her,” Makino said, this time her smile turning a tad sad. “So who’ll be fighting tonight then, if not you?”

“Luffy.”

Makino nodded. “Well, I think your captain’s going to be a bit disappointed, we don't have that strong of a bunch tonight. You guys might’ve scared them all off.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Can we go now?” he pressed, impatient.

Makino let out a laugh. “Head on down.”

Zoro pulled Sanji along with him, the blond very confused as Zoro descended down the stairs of the bar towards the arena.

If Sanji thought he was going into a wine cellar, he was in for a surprise.

It was loud down there, Zoro noted. Much louder than he remembered, but he hadn’t been here in a while. It would take a while for his ears to adjust. 

“Zoro, where are we going?” Sanji demanded, raising his voice at the sudden change in volume.

“We’re going to watch a fight!”

“A fight? What are you talking about?”

Zoro stopped once they reached the bottom of the stairs where two bouncers stood with their arms crossed. They were wearing shades, though Zoro still had no idea why people insisted on wearing them indoors and were looking at a list on a clipboard. “Name?” the larger of the two asked.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already?”

“Name?” the man repeated.

“Zoro, why don’t you just give them your name?” Sanji asked, confused. “They look like they want to squash us like a bug—”

“Zoro?” the smaller of the men said. “Roronoa, is that you?”

“I haven’t been gone that long, have I, boys?”

The two men’s faces split into identical smiles. “Big Bro Zoro!” cried Yosaku with a big grin on his face. “You here to fight? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Nope, tonight’s all Luffy.”

“And who’s that?” asked Johnny, eyeing Sanji. “He looks a little scared.”

Sanji turned bright red. “I am not, you tattooed asshole!” 

Johnny took a step back. “Um, should we call security?”

“Aren’t _you_ security?”

“Oh … yeah,” Yosaku said. “Who’s your friend, Big Bro?”

“This is—”

“I can talk for myself, bastard,” Sanji snapped. He looked the two men in the eye and said, “Name’s Sanji. Do you have names or am I just going to call you Dumb and Dumber?”

Johnny and Yosaku turned to each other.

“Did he just call me Dumb?” asked Yosaku.

“No, I think you’re the one who he calls Dumber.”

“Hey, you’re dumber than me, dummy!”

Zoro could almost see Sanji rolling his eyes despite the darkness.

“Never mind. You gonna let us in?” Zoro figured neither would be too proud to be the winner of this “who is the dumbest” competition.

“Right, yeah, of course!” Yosaku said. “Come on in, Big Bro Sanji!”

“Big Bro—?”

“Don’t question it,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. “It’s their thing.” He pulled Sanji along by his sleeve into the eye of the storm. “You have to stick close to me, or else you’ll probably get lost—”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Sanji asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve never been here, you’re easy prey,” Zoro told him. “Everyone else here is at least a little scared of me, so I’ll be fine, but they might pick on you, so I'd watch out. If you want to die in a mosh pit, be my guest, but don't say I didn’t warn you.”

“This isn’t a mosh pit, idiot,” Sanji told him, but Zoro noticed he didn’t let go of Zoro’s arm. In fact, his grip tightened.

The centre of the room had their tables removed, which was a good thing since two people were currently fighting there.

“Hey, Zoro!”

Zoro nearly screamed when he felt Luffy wrap an arm around his shoulder. The dark haired man leaned on him with more weight than Zoro felt comfortable, and slapped him on the back. “So, is there anyone good to fight around here? You volunteered me to fight, so it’d better be a work out.” 

“Your girlfriend’s trying to cheat people out of their money again,” Zoro told Luffy. “I’d be more concerned about keeping an eye on her than who your opponent’s going to be.”

Luffy shook his head. “Nah, Nami’s good. I trust her.”

Zoro gave him a look. “Don’t you think you’re a little too trusting?”

Luffy shrugged. “Maybe. Hey Sanji, how do you like it here?” he asked, turning his attention towards the blond.

Sanji was watching the fight between the two men vigorously, his eyes catching every movement. Zoro had only ever seen him show this much concentration when he was cooking. Was he really that enraptured by it?

“Hey, Zoro,” said Sanji, his voice sounding far away, his eyes continuing to watch the fight, back and forth, back and forth, cringing when appropriate. “Can I fight Luffy?”

Zoro stared at him. _Does he have any idea what he just said?_ “Excuse me?”

“Yes,” Sanji said. “I dunno, seeing the kendo fight and watching these guys fight, it kind of makes me want to fight too. The energy going around here is sort of contagious.” His eyes followed one of the men as they judo flipped the other on a table, causing it to break. “Besides, Luffy doesn’t look like that much of a challenge.”

“Sanji, Luffy has punches of steel,” Zoro told him. “And do you even know how to fight?”

“No, not really,” Sanji replied. “But I kind of want to give it a try.” He finally turned his attention back to Zoro and away from the match. From the effort it looked like it took him, you’d think he was hypnotized. “So may I?”

“May you what?”

“May I fight Luffy?”

Luffy let out a laugh. “You think you can take me?” He sounded good-natured about it. He was obviously teasing him but the gaze Sanji sent him made shivers run down Zoro’s spine. It was concerning how even Zoro shivered.

“No,” Sanji replied. “I _know_ I can.”

The entire room seemed to hear Sanji’s bold words and acted accordingly. In translation, everyone said in unison, “ _Oooooooooh_ …”

“Oh grow up!” Zoro snapped at them all.

Luffy gave Sanji a smile. “I’m game if you are.”

Zoro’s eyes widened. “Sanji, you don’t know what you’re asking for. You don’t seriously want to do this.” It was better to go home with all your bones in tact rather than go home in a casket.

“Don’t worry Zoro, I’ll go easy on him. So? What do you say?”

Sanji chewed on his cigarette. “I want to fight you. But no holding back.”

Luffy raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Definitely.”

“Sanji, wait, you don't want to—”

“Luffy against a newcomer?” came a new voice. Zoro looked and found the source. Of course it’d be Ace. Of course Luffy’s brother would be here. The dark haired man looked Sanji up and down, as though sizing him up and grinned, satisfied with what he saw. “I’d pay to see that!”

Nami’s eyes widened. “Really? How much? 20? 30?”

Ace looked at her strangely. “It’s an expression, you know.”

Nami looked slightly put out by this.

“I want to see what you’ve got,” Ace declared, directing his words at Sanji. “Luffy, you up for it?”

“Yeah, totally!”

Sanji turned to Zoro. “We just need your permission, _Mom_ ,” he teased.

Zoro scowled. “If you want to go up against Luffy, fine, but I’m not taking care of your bruises!”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Hey, you said it yourself; I kick hard. I’ll be fine.” Taking off his blazer, he handed it to Zoro. “Hold onto that for me, would you?”

The other fight ended with the smaller guy winning. Zoro figured he used an aikido technique. 

“Okay, so how does this work?” asked Sanji, stepping into the area where the previous fight had been held. Zoro noticed he didn’t roll up his sleeves. Remembering what his bare arms looked like, he felt sick, not because he was disgusted, but because of what the cooks had driven Sanji to do.

“Simple,” said Ace, standing up on a table. “Your fighting arena is the area surrounded by the tables. On the occasion, the fight _does_ go out of the ring, but try to keep it inside. We don’t want to make our tab any bigger, got it?” he teased, sending Sanji a wink. “You’ll fight until one of you surrenders, or until you can’t go on. We, the crowd, determine whether or not you can go on. If you’re down for more than ten seconds, then you’re out. This is meant to be a fun brawl, so please avoid aiming for the throat or any other vital regions that are required for breathing. You’ll start when I blow this whistle,” Ace gestured to said whistle around his neck. “As for the rules, it’s pretty easy. Anything other than going in for a killing blow is allowed. I suppose you could say there are no rules really. Easy enough, isn’t it?”

Zoro sat at a table that allowed him a good view of the ring, watching as Sanji and Luffy stared each other down from opposing sides of the arena. 

“Alright. When I blow my whistle, we start.”

“Three,” the crowd said in a murmur in unison. “Two. One.”

_TWEET!_

“FIGHT!”

Sanji walked around the ring with his hands in his pockets, the way an idiot would. Honestly, Zoro knew he wasn’t ready to fight, why had he given in? Luffy reared his arm back, ready to strike. Zoro nearly screamed out Sanji’s name, to tell him to duck but when Luffy let go of his punch, Sanji leaned to the side slightly and dodged it easily.

_What the fuck?_

Luffy stared at Sanji in confusion, before shaking it off. He took another strike at him, but Sanji dodged. His movements were graceful and quick, perfectly timed. Luffy went to lunge forwards, but Sanji avoided him with ease. The dark haired man made another attempt to strike him in the back, but then Sanji did something no one was expecting.

The blond jumped, spinning in the air. One of his legs came out and struck Luffy in the face harshly. 

Luffy staggered back and rubbed his face, feeling the bruise.

_Where did he learn that?_

Luffy didn’t seem at all displeased with Sanji. In fact, he seemed overjoyed. He grinned the way only a lunatic could, before taking a step forward and trying to punch Sanji by shooting various punches at him. Sanji dodged them, but his back hit a table. The blond jumped up onto it, before leap-frogging over Luffy and landing in the ring. His hands never left his pockets.

“Is that the best you can do, Captain?” Sanji teased.

“Okay, that’s it, no more going easy,” Luffy declared. “You want to fight?”

“Dying to,” Sanji replied with a smirk.

“AHHH!” Luffy hollered, running at Sanji. His sudden scream distracted Sanji long enough for Luffy to punch him in the gut, forcing the blond to keel over. Luffy then grabbed his arm with his free hand and was about to do something, what, no one would know, because then Sanji’s hand gripped Luffy’s arm that was holding onto him and used it as leverage to flip himself over the big-eyed man, his feet kicking Luffy in the head in the process. Once he was back on his feet, his hand returned to the confines of his pockets.

Luffy rubbed his head. “That hurt!”

“Kind of the point. This _is_ a fight, isn’t it?”

Luffy grinned.

He flung himself onto the floor, grabbing the cook’s ankles tightly. Sanji tried to shake him off, but the uneven distribution of weight threw him off balance and it seemed Sanji refused to fall in front of an audience. Luffy then wormed his way closer to Sanji’s body and stood up, standing on Sanji’s toes. 

“Are we dancing now?” Sanji teased. “Because, no offence, you’re not my type.”

Luffy wrapped one of his legs around Sanji’s, hooking at the knee joint. He gave a fierce tug forward and Sanji’s balance wavered. He had to grab onto Luffy’s shoulders to stop himself from falling over. Luffy laughed, using his other foot to wrap around Sanji’s other ankle. He gave another fierce tug and Sanji’s balance abandoned him completely and he fell to the floor.

“You’re handsome Sanji,” Luffy told him, “In a completely platonic way of course. But …” His eyes wandered across the arena and locked on Nami. “I prefer a little danger.”

“That so?” Sanji asked, sitting up using his elbows. He kicked at Luffy’s feet, setting him off balance and making the dark haired man fall to the floor, face first. Sanji stood up and dusted off his pants. “How’s that for danger?”

Luffy made a move to grab at Sanji’s legs again, but the blond backed up and kicked at him instead, leaving a boot-shaped footprint on Luffy’s forehead. 

Luffy would not be beaten though. He picked himself up off the floor just as Sanji turned to Zoro, asking for a cigarette and clocked Sanji straight in the jaw.

The cook staggered back and rubbed his face, seeing blood stain his blue shirt. He frowned. “This was my favourite!”

Zoro watched Sanji, the way his eyes lit up and the way his legs moved. When Sanji dropped to the floor, laying his hands out and swept his foot above him, swiftly kicking Luffy harshly in the jaw, he couldn’t help but watch the fire in his eyes as he stood back up and sent Luffy a glare. He looked … fuck, the cook looked _sexy_ that way …

Zoro shook his head. Surely, he was just saying pointless things because he did not just think that about the cook. Nope, he hadn't done that. Not at all. He clutched the cook’s blazer tighter, his knuckles turning white, a distant voice in his head telling him he might make the golden buttons pop out if he wasn’t careful.

The fight went on, Sanji kicking smoothly and Luffy delivering a variety of punches and the occasional kick.

It was weird. Other than to use them as leverage, Sanji never attacked with his hands.

Luffy jumped off a table and latched his arms around Sanji’s neck, as though to get a piggy-back ride. The blond threw himself down on his shoulder onto the ground, forcing Luffy to fall with him. He squirmed and then, somehow, in a way that Zoro could not fathom, Sanji made a bridge with his body and kicked, hitting Luffy and successfully throwing him off of him. The blond stood back up, but was dragged back down by Luffy grabbing onto his knee tightly and pulling.

The two landed on the floor with a thud.

Luffy smiled while Sanji smirked. It was clear that the cook didn’t want to lose and would not accept defeat at the hands of Luffy, but at the same time, Luffy seemed to want to drag the battle out, see how much Sanji had up his sleeve.

Sanji wiped his mouth. There was slightly more blood on his sleeve. He was sweating and his breath was coming out heavy. God, he looked _fucking se_ — no, he was not going down that road again. Better yet, he wouldn’t even start down that road because he had never thought that in the first place.

“Your boy’s doing pretty well, isn’t he, Zoro?” 

Zoro jumped, his eyes leaving the fight for the first time at the sound of Nami’s voice. “Luffy’s not doing too badly either,” he said cooly.

“Yeah well, what can you expect from the captain of the group?” Nami asked. “I still don’t know why he insisted on calling us a ‘crew’ and making himself captain. As far as Usopp’s concerned, he’s the captain of this metaphorical crew. What, does he think we’re pirates or something?”

“I think Luffy might have read too much _Treasure Island_ as a child, don’t you?”

“Read?”

“Good point, that book’s too big for him, he probably just saw the movie a thousand times.”

Nami smirked. 

“What?” Zoro asked, his eyes following Sanji once more as he used a table for leverage to lift half of his body up and kick Luffy underneath the chin, forcing him to stagger back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason …”

“Don’t give me that crap, Nami.”

“It’s just …” Nami grinned, stupidly. “Do you know what you said?”

“No, what?”

 _Why’s she grinning like she won the lottery? What did I say?_ Zoro tried to remember the conversation, but it was kind of of hard while watching as Luffy threw Sanji onto the ground for what had to be the twentieth time tonight. _Watching_ ** _Treasure Island_** _, Luffy isn’t bad at fighting— oh wait._

_“Your boy’s doing pretty well, isn’t he, Zoro?”_

_Your boy._

Zoro hadn’t denied it. 

There was no reason to feel embarrassed, and yet Zoro had to fight down the blush. Sanji wasn’t “his boy”, whatever the hell that meant. When Nami said it was something he said, she had meant it was what he _hadn’t_ said. He _hadn’t_ denied that Sanji was his boy. 

Using possessive pronouns seemed stupid to him, but then again, he used them with Wado. Wado was _his_ sword. The king-sized bed was _his_ bed. The _shinai_ was _his_ , it was _his_ _bōgu_ , it was _his_ shit-apartment— no. That one wasn’t right. It was _their_ shit-apartment.

Fuck, what was he thinking?

“I think Ace might call the match off,” Nami said, breaking into Zoro’s thoughts. “It’s almost twelve, they’ve been at it for hours.”

“Sanji won't let them tie,” Zoro told her. “He’s too prideful for that.”

“Sanji, eh? I thought he was Curly Brow, or Cook, or bastard, or asshole, or anything that _wasn’t_ Sanji.”

“Why you …” Tried to find words, and coming up with none, turned his attention back towards the match. “Fucking crazy woman, driving me up a wall!”

“That’s what I’m here for, Hon.”

There was a rustling sound. Was that … was she …?

Zoro turned to Nami again to find her holding various bills in her hand, licking her finger as she flipped through them, counting under her breath.

“Why the fuck do you have money?”

Nami stopped and glared at him. “You made me lose count!”

“That doesn’t answer my question, why do you have money?”

“It’s for the economy?”

“Bullshit.”

Nami rolled her eyes. “It’s no big deal, I’m just collecting the bets.”

“The bets? As in gambling?” He sighed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What? I figured it all out, I don’t need to ask you for permission to have others place bets on who’s going to win, I just need to do it. It’s not like you have any control over me.”

“What will Luffy say?”

Nami snorted. “He won’t care, he’ll just be happy we have more money for more meat.”

Sadly, he knew she was right.

Against Zoro’s better judgement, he eyed the money. “How much is that?”

“Well, it’s at least 30,” Nami said. “And the other pile’s about 45,” she added. 

“Other pile?” 

“One’s for Luffy, one’s for your boy.”

“He’s _not_ my boy,” Zoro snarled. “And by 45, do you mean hundred?”

“Hundred?” Nami laughed. “I mean _thousands_ , Marimo.”

Hearing Nami call him that made him scowl. He barely tolerated Sanji calling him it, so why should Nami get to pick fun at his hair? “So … do I even want to know which pile is for who?” 

Nami smirked. “Interested?”

“Just curious.”

“Well, the 45 thousand is Luffy’s pile, the 30 is Sanji. The ladies seem to like him too,” she added. “Something tells me he’s eye-candy.” 

“Eye-candy?” Zoro choked out.

“Yeah, something good for the girls to see. Good-looking, good fighter, a real charmer you got there.” Nami’s eyes surveyed the room before they fell on someone. “I’ve gotta go,” she told Zoro with a laugh, patting him on the shoulder. “I think Sanji’s pile just got bigger!”

With that, she left, yen signs shining in her eyes. 

The swordsman turned back to the fight to see both Sanji and Luffy lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Am I dead?” he heard Luffy say.

Zoro watched Sanji’s leg extend and strike Luffy’s side. “Moron, it’s just the lighting.”

Ace walked into the ring at that moment and picked both Sanji and Luffy up by one arm. “So, it seems like we have a tie,” he said. 

“WHAT?!”

Zoro had to laugh at the way Sanji immediately pulled himself out of Ace’s grasp and gaped at him. “How the fuck do you call that a tie?”

“Well, you both dropped at the same time,” Ace replied. “And I highly doubt you can fight with the condition you’re in, so—”

“No,” Sanji cut him off. “No, no, no. This is _not_ a tie. Either he beat me, or I beat him. There has to be some way to score this so we actually have a winner. Don’t give me that ‘everyone’s a winner’ bullshit. There’s winning and then there’s losing. It’s not a competition if there’s no actual winner!” 

Ace stared at Sanji in shock. Probably surprised by the amount of energy he still had after such a long fight, then he tossed his head back and laughed. “This is Sanji?” 

Luffy nodded. “He’s pretty awesome, right?” Luffy had a dumb smile on his face. 

Ace nodded. “I’m Ace,” he introduced himself to Sanji. _Because of course, introducing yourself_ ** _after_** _you had him and your younger brother practically fight to the death in a gruesome match that had to have lasted at least three hours is totally legit._ “I’m this little squirt’s brother,” he said, ruffling Luffy’s hair.

Sanji nodded, his breathing harsh. “I can … can see the … the resemblance,” he said through pants. 

“You okay?” Ace asked, giving Sanji a worried look. “You can sit down if you want.”

Sanji shook his head. “I’m fine. Zoro, hand me my blazer, would you?” he asked.

Sanji was tired. He was coated in sweat, soaking his shirt. The very reason he held back from rolling up his sleeves was starting to seep through. The blond was taking deep gulps of air, probably the cleanest air he had ever inhaled in a while. Watching the sweat drip down Sanji’s forehead, the way his shirt clung to him— Zoro shook his head and thrust the blazer at him, turning his head away. What was happening to him? Maybe he needed to get himself checked?

Sanji lit up a cigarette and instantly relax once more, before turning on his heel and waving an arm in the air to signal for Zoro to follow him.

Ace smiled at Sanji’s back as he walked away. It was like he knew Zoro would follow him. “You’re welcome back any time,” Ace told Sanji’s retreating figure. “You can have a rematch and we’ll have an official winner, that sound good to you?”

Sanji stopped and turned around, giving Ace a lazy smile that Zoro had never seen before. He felt his stomach churn with a sudden urge to punch Ace in the face. “If he’s up for it,” Sanji said, nodding towards Luffy.

Luffy gave him a thumbs up.

“Well, I’d better be going, we drove here in my car,” Zoro said. “Nice seeing you Ace.”

Ace’s hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. “Hey Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“Take good care of him, okay?”

Zoro didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to ask questions at every chapter when I originally wrote this fic. So here's my question to you: imagine Luffy and Sanji are fighting in real life, Luffy doesn't have the Devil Fruit. He and Sanji get into a fight, and they go all out. Now just to remember: Luffy's power doesn't really come from his Devil Fruit, his force is just naturally that, and then it's the reel back that adds to his punch. He trained himself before the Devil Fruit, he can punch someone damn hard without having to reel back far and such. I like to think they're pretty evenly matched, but like, you never know. What do you guys think?


	12. Something To Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, sort of mention of past abuse? That's kinda in every chapter ... sorry. But it's vague? Kind of only implied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Too lazy to come up with phone numbers.

It was raining.

Of course it was fucking raining the _one day_ that Zoro let Sanji go out on his own, without someone looming over him like he was some criminal on parol, to get the groceries. Fucking _fantastic_.

Sanji pulled his blazer tighter around him and grit his teeth. Was the cosmos trying to tell him that he was never going to be allowed to leave the shit-apartment on his own? 

He quickly found a phone booth and scurrying inside, shut the door behind him. Feeling into his pockets, he tried to find any loose change he may have. His fingers were freezing, he wouldn’t be surprised if they went numb. It was September, why was it raining in September? Wasn’t it supposed to rain in April? April showers bring May flowers and all that shit? 

With a sigh, Sanji managed to pull out enough money and put it through the slot. He lifted a finger to dial the apartment’s number when he realized something.

He had no fucking clue what the number was.

_Shit._

“Fucking bastard, never telling me anything,” Sanji muttered under his breath.

_God, I’m going to_ **_kill_ ** _Zoro when I get home._

Sanji froze. Home? _Did I just think_ ** _home_** _? Shit, no, it’s not a home, it’s a shit-apartment with shitty electricity and shitty Internet connection. It’s a shitty apartment with a shitty roof and a shitty swordsman— fuck, I’ve seen him in a kendo match, I can’t call him a shitty swordsman with no actual basis for it! Wait a minute, I can do whatever I fucking want, he’s not the fucking boss of me!  … I swear a lot, don’t I?_

Pressed up against cold glass, Sanji waited. He was patient, he could wait.

And wait. And wait.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick—

_Fuck it!_

Sanji took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up. The warmth from the lighter sent pleasant shivers down his spine. His hair was damp and so were his clothes. Sanji hated the feeling of sticky clothes. He lit his cigarette once more, letting the warmth fill the small confines of the booth. Why didn’t he use matches? He brought his hand closer to the flame, trying to warm up his hands. His skin prickled with warmth as feeling began to return.

A clap of thunder boomed overhead and Sanji instinctively pressed himself up against the glass as though bracing himself for another painful blow from the cooks.

Zoro could help distract him, that he could admit, but no one, regardless of whether or not they were the green-haired swordsman, could make him forget.

The lighter pricked at his thumb by accident as he collided with the glass. The burning sensation was nothing new, he had burnt himself several times in the kitchen when he was younger out of carelessness. And a few times that had not been so absent-minded. He closed the lighter and plunged into the cold, feeling it in his bones. 

Fuck, he was _freezing_. 

He could light up his lighter again, just for the sake of warmth. Yeah, he could do that.

His thumb burned a little, felt a little sore, but there was no blood, just a mark. Another mark amongst many. What did it matter to have another? If he was already broken, bruised and scarred, nothing could possibly taint him more. His body’s system was filled with nauseating chemicals from the cigarettes, his body itself was covered in scars— self-inflicted and otherwise— certain parts of him bruised worse than others, he knew he had no depth to himself. There was no reason to try and preserve it.

In a phone booth in God-knew-where of Tokyo, no one would know. Maybe they would assume he was just struck by lightning? After all, feeling nothing at all was better than being hurt, wasn’t it? Failed attempt after failed attempt had gone wrong and what did he have to live for anyway?

He had no parents, no family. The cooks hated him and probably thought he was dead at this point. Zeff didn’t seem to be coming back all that quickly. What was there for him?

_“One more,” Sanji said. He took a deep breath. He didn’t know what he expected Zoro to say, he really didn’t. He already classified his friends under a category of “idiots”, but all the same, once his breath was out, he managed to speak. “_ **_Nakama_ ** _.”_

_Zoro stared Sanji straight in the eye. “You.”_

_0.96 seconds._

_“What the fuck?”_

_Zoro smirked. “See how confusing that is?” Zoro threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t ask me to explain, cause I can’t, but when you say_ **_nakama_ ** _, I think of you. Apparently, we both think of each other. Not like it matters or anything,” he added quickly._

Wrong. It _did_ matter. A lot.

The past two months hadn’t felt real. 

Going to that club, Partys, was insane. He hadn’t even known he could beat someone up that badly. It had been amazing and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed Zoro watching his every move. Luffy had said he was quite good and Sanji had even been invited there again. He hadn’t felt guilt from beating Luffy up either. It had been a different kind of fight from the ones he had with the cooks, it was one where they were both equal and the whole point of it was to simply see who was stronger, not to break the other down. 

Sanji had thought he was too far gone in his life to have a life-defining moment, but he felt as though he had had it in that bar. In that old time, rusty looking bar with those idiots whom Zoro called “friends” and he had had more fun than he’d ever dare to admit. 

He had felt … _free_.

 _Besides_ , Sanji reasoned, shutting the lighter. _Zoro’s quitting, I can’t have him recovering before me, can I?_

The idea of a competition against the swordsman sent fire through Sanji’s veins. He wasn’t even sure _why_. Maybe it was because of the way Zoro did everything passionately and fully, the way he was never half-assed. If he thought Luffy needed chewing out, he’d do it, yelling, screaming, uvula waving and all. If he thought Nami ought to stop gambling, he’d have a stern talk with her until that talk was imprinted in her mind, nagging her every time, even if it didn’t do anything to change her habits. If Zoro wanted to save someone—

Sanji stared at the falling rain. 

_Did … did Zoro_ **_save_ ** _me?_

Sanji tried to think of where he’d be around this time if Zoro hadn’t taken him from the Baratie.

_Patty would be screaming at me to get to work, I’d have tried to get out of the kitchen again and served Zoro, then gone back and gotten a beating. They’d probably have … done_ **_it_ ** _again …_

Sanji shivered and recoiled at the mere memory.

But what if he had never met Zoro? Would they have not done that?

Sanji shook his head. No, they probably would’ve, regardless of if the swordsman had ever became a nightly client. They’d find a reason so that their twisted minds thought what they were doing was justified. 

_Did Zoro save me?_

During the two hours that it took the storm to wear down, Sanji still couldn’t find an answer he was satisfied with.

* * *

“Oi! Marimo! Open the damn door!”

It was one o’clock in the morning, Sanji knew. His cigarettes were soaked, which meant he’d need new ones, no doubt. Another thing he realized that in all of the days or rather, _weeks_ of living with Zoro, the bastard had never given him a key to the apartment. Did he just assume that Sanji would stay inside forever and never need a way in?

The door opened and he was greeted by the face of an angry green-haired gorilla. No, wait, that was Zoro.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT FUCKING TIME IT IS?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing, his jaw set. He seemed mad. No, beyond mad, he was _livid_. “YOU THINK YOU COULD AT LEAST CALL TO TELL ME YOU’D BE BACK LATE, BUT NOOOO! MR. TOP-NOTCH COOK CAN’T DO THAT, CAN HE?! TOO MUCH OF A BOTHER IN HIS NIGHT, ISN’T IT?”

There was the sound of another door opening and Sanji turned around to see a nearly bald man grumbling. He wore a bathrobe and slippers. He sent a glare in Zoro’s direction. “It is not the time to be hollering like a hooligan!” he snapped at Zoro. “Take your lover’s quarrel inside and let us get some sleep!”

With that, the man slammed the door behind him.

Sanji hurried himself inside while Zoro slammed the door shut behind him. He couldn’t have been louder if he tried. With his arms crossed and his mouth set in a thin line, Zoro almost looked scary. 

Keyword: almost.

“Sit,” Zoro commanded, gesturing towards the couch.

Sanji sat, trying to hold in his laughter.

Zoro began pacing back and forth in front of Sanji, mumbling under his breath, the smoke practically bursting from his ears. It only added to Sanji’s amusement.

“I’m going to try and be rational here,” Zoro said in a tone that screamed he was trying not to yell. “Now, I understand that it was raining, I get that. But I just asked you to get the groceries. I expected you back by nine and instead, you came back at one. I had to order take-out. Fucking _take-out._ ” Zoro shook his head. “I forgot how bad that shit is compared to your cooking.” Sanji said nothing about the accidental compliment Zoro had just given him. “It’s late, I’m tired, you’re drenched and need to take a shower. I doubt you had food so there’s some food on the counter which I didn’t eat,” Zoro gestured. “I’m going to go and sleep tonight and we’ll talk about this in the morning. The main thing I’ll ask of you is that next time, you call when you plan on walking in so late.”

Sanji bit his lip.

“What?” Zoro asked. His fists were curled and his knuckles were white in an attempt to behave and he was wearing holes into the floor. “You have something to say, Cuelicue?”

Sanji needed no other invitation. “You didn’t give me the shit-apartment’s number.”

“Wha?”

“You. Didn’t. Give me. The shit-apartment’s. Number.” Sanji spoke slowly and deliberately. 

“WHAT?!”

There was a knock on the door, probably another neighbour complaining but Zoro spun on his heel, opened the door and screamed, “WE’RE HAVING A FUCKING CONVERSATION, MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!” and promptly slammed the door in their face.

“I think that was the landlord.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“I tried to call you know, but while in the telephone booth I came across the realization that you didn’t trust me enough to give me your number,” Sanji told him. “So technically this whole predicament is your fault.”

“My fault?” Zoro repeated. “ _My fault?_ ”

“Repeating things tends to get tiring, don’t you find?”

Zoro slammed his fist down on the table and Sanji didn’t even blink. He had seen worse fights at the Baratie, Zoro didn’t scare him. “How the fuck is this my fault? Why didn’t you call the 110 number to get mine?”

“Because I only had so much loose change on me after spending so much because your fridge is fucking empty, that I could only make one call!”

Zoro stared at him. “You used a telephone booth?”

Sanji nodded.

“Why _the fuck_ were you using a phone booth?”

“Because,” Sanji said, exasperated, getting tired of all this explaining. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

“YOU DON’T HAVE A CELL PHONE?!”

Even if Zoro didn’t scare him, he _would_ be the reason Sanji would lose his hearing at such a young age. 

“Yes Zoro, I don’t have a cell phone. The bastard cooks never gave me one. There was never any reason for me to own one. I used the phone at the Baratie and the only time I really left the place was to go grocery shopping or to buy more cigarettes. I didn’t have a reason to have my own phone.” He stood up and took off his blazer. He was soaked to the bone. Hopefully it wasn’t ruined. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to take that shower you mentioned.”

Zoro shook his head. “Stop!” he commanded.

Sanji froze and turned to him. “Was that an order? I have had a really fucking bad day, you hear me, bastard? You are not the boss of me, understood, Marimo?”

Zoro shook his head once more, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. He kept pulling at his hair. “Give me a second,” he told Sanji, “just give me a second before you go prancing off into your shower.”

“I never said anything about prancing.”

Zoro closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Was he … meditating?

When Zoro opened his eyes again, it looked as though he had come to peace with his inner-self. Or, as peaceful as you can get when you’re the embodiment of anger itself. 

“Okay. You don’t have a phone. I can fix that,” he muttered more to himself than Sanji. “Tomorrow we’re going shopping.”

“What? Why?” Sanji demanded, looking alarmed.

“To get a phone, why else? Now close your mouth, take your shower and go to bed, I’m going to collapse.”

* * *

Sanji had never been a fan of crowded places.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal,” Sanji insisted. “Can’t we just leave?” The amount of people in the shop was making him nervous. It wasn’t the Baratie, he didn’t know his environment. The men and women scurrying about, dragging their kids around to show them the latest model of the phone they wanted and more. 

“No, I need to be able to reach you at all times—”

“So what? You can just stick a GPS in my hair and get it over with,” Sanji snapped. “Is a phone really necessary?”

“At this stage in the twenty-first century? Yes.”

Sanji sighed. “Fine,” he grumbled. Looking around the store, his eyes settled on a phone. 

“How about this?” Zoro asked, holding up a phone.

“Yeah, sure,” he told Zoro with a shrug. “I don’t really care.”

“Clearly you don’t,” Zoro replied.

“I’m not the one who wants this phone!”

“Sirs, we’re going to have to ask you to quiet down, or else you’ll be asked to leave the store.”

Zoro glared at the customer service woman, but he quieted down.

After the two of them stood in silence for a little bit, Zoro spoke again.

“I was wondering … Where’d you learn to fight?”

“Where’d _you_ learn to fight?” Sanji asked, raising an eyebrow to challenge Zoro’s question.

“A dojo. One run by my friend’s father.”

Sanji nodded. He wanted to ask which friend, but thought that perhaps, judging by the look on Zoro’s face, he’d best not. 

“I answered your question, you answer mine.”

Sanji shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean sure, the cooks beat me up pretty badly, but I never really … fought back, you know? I mean I _tried_ to every once in a while, but before anything could happen, I was thrown across the kitchen and then Zeff intervened.”

Zoro looked at Sanji. “Who’s Zeff?”

Sanji paled. He didn’t even know why. It wasn’t a crime for Zoro to know more about his past, but it hurt Sanji to remember it. Sanji shook his head, hoping Zoro would forget he had even mentioned Zeff’s name. “Anyway, I was never in a position to attack. They always got me first. Would you believe me if I told you that night at the Baratie was the first time I had ever kicked someone in the head?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” His eyes still held a question, probably about Zeff, but it seemed as though he wouldn’t ask it. “So you’ve seriously never been taught to fight before?”

“Nope,” Sanji replied. “Watched the cooks fight a lot though.”

“You just … I dunno, you looked so composed fighting Luffy, I figured—”

“I was some tough, ass-kicking delinquent?” Sanji shook his head. “No gangsters in my childhood, only lunatic chefs.”

Zoro nodded. “I was wondering, when you fight, you have this habit …” he trailed off.

“What?”

“Do you know that you keep your hands in your pocket?” Zoro asked. “Because you never use them when you fight. Ever. Luffy threw punches and you just dodged them. You never raised a fist. Not once.”

Sanji smirked. “Guess my instincts are good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it this way; when you’re a soccer player, you have to avoid injury to your legs and feet. You need to protect the organs and/or limbs that are necessary for you to continue doing what you love, right?” He shrugged. “Same goes for cooks. You can’t cook if you damage your hands.”

“True,” Zoro nodded in agreement. “So that’d be like if a swordsman harmed their hands, wrists or arms, right? They need them to fight.”

“Exactly,” Sanji said.

“But you use your feet to fight,” Zoro replied.

“Yeah, how else am I supposed to fight? Using only my torso?”

“I get it. So you treasure your hands, don’t you? They’re very important to you and special.”

“You love sword-fighting, right? You treasure your swords,” Sanji said. “I’m a cook and I love being in the kitchen. I treasure my hands.”

There was silence between the two of them, a comfortable one, when Sanji saw a woman come up behind Zoro and tap him on the shoulder.

The Marimo flew a foot in the air, turning around sharply and glaring at the girl. “What?” he demanded.

Sanji frowned. “You’re being rude to a lady.” He gave the woman an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for my friend, he’s just an ass.”

The woman giggled and nodded, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She looked away from them, trying to compose herself before she turned back and gestured towards the phone in Zoro’s hand. “Are you going to purchase that?”

Zoro followed her gaze. “Right, yeah, this.” He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll take it.”

Sanji frowned. “Hey, I never agreed on—”

“I said. We’ll. Take. It.”

Sanji sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you could lead us to the cash Miss, that’d be wonderful,” Sanji said with another false smile her way.

She giggled and lead them towards a man who stood behind the counter. He looked at Zoro and Sanji, frowning. “So uh, who’s paying?” he asked.

“I am,” they both said at the same time.

“You don’t even want the damn thing.”

“Yes, but you’re broke,” Sanji said.

“It’s not my fault your restaurant’s so fucking expensive!”

“I didn’t ask you to come!”

The man looked between the two of them, probably wishing he had finished college so he wouldn’t be stuck with this miserable, lousy job. “You could split the bill,” he offered shyly.

“NO!” both of them yelled in unison.

“Okay,” the cashier said, shrinking into the shadows, terrified of the two.

“Look,” Sanji huffed, “I have money, I’m paying. If you want, you can pay the tax, okay?”

“You’re telling me you have 600 00 yen on you right now in cash? That has to be illegal!”

Sanji sighed. “The phone’s more like 700 00 yen,” Sanji said. “You can pay the other 100 00 yen and the tax, does that satisfy you?” he asked.

“Just let the man pay,” the cashier said, desperate to have the two of them leave the shop immediately. They were scaring the other customers. 

“What, does that make me a girl?!” Sanji demanded. “Let the man pay,” he snorted. 

“Yeah right!”

“You _are_ rather feminine,” Zoro said.

“TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BASTARD!”

Sanji sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, here’s some money,” Sanji said, handing over a few wads of bills. “Whatever I didn’t pay, let the Marimo pay. This should only bruise his ego slightly rather than get us kicked out of the place.”

Zoro sighed and crossed his arms. “Next time, I’m paying.”

“There won’t be a next time, and I’m not your fucking boyfriend, you don’t have to pay for me.”

Zoro looked taken aback by the word “boyfriend”. He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he demanded. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend—”

“That’s what I just said,” Sanji told him, exasperated. He turned to the trembling cashier. “Just wrap it and we’ll go.”

The man behind the cash had never been more glad that customers had left the store.

  
“If you won’t let me pay, the least you can do is let me drive my own car.”

“You’ll get lost,” Sanji shot back.

“I will not! It’s my apartment!”

Sanji shook his head. “It’s a shit-apartment and you’d get lost before we even got out of the fucking parking lot and you know it.” He looked to the passenger seat to see Zoro playing with Sanji’s new phone with interest. Sanji grabbed it out of his hand and glared at him. “What do you think you’re fucking doing?”

“Both hands on the wheel, Cook,” Zoro smirked at him. Sanji ignored him briefly and looked down.

_Name: Roronoa Zoro_

_Phone number: XXX-XXX-XXXX_

_Cell number: XXX-XXX-XXXX_

“You’ve put yourself in?” Sanji said slowly.

“Yes, now put both hands on the wheel and keep your eyes on the road,” Zoro snapped. “Honestly, do you even have a driver’s license?”

They lapsed into silence, driving along the road, Zoro obviously still bitter. After what felt like forever, Zoro spoke again, breaking the silence.

“You know,” Zoro said softly. “If you treasure your hands and you need your legs to fight for self-defence …” he trailed off. “Doesn’t that mean that your whole body is a treasure?”

Sanji stared straight ahead but his eyes widened noticeably. “What?” he asked.

“If you need your hands to cook and you can’t bear to harm them, then you need to take good care of them. If you need your legs to fight, which will help you stay alive, then you need to take good care of them too. Doesn’t that mean _you_ are a treasure?”

Sanji turned away and stared out the window, trying to fight down a blush.

“Fucking liar,” he muttered.

 _He can’t mean it, can he?_ he thought to himself, but there was a voice in the very back of his mind, nagging him, annoying him, telling him he did.


	13. Come Spar With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. Have fun with this.

 

The blond dusted off an invisible speck on his pants before standing upright again. Ace lifted Sanji’s arm, declaring him the winner of yet another drunk bar fight.

“You’re staring.”

Zoro jumped at Nami’s voice. “So what?” he asked, turning to face her. “I need to make sure the bastard doesn’t injure himself,” he told her. “It’s a free country, isn’t it?”

Nami shook her head with a sigh. “You’re so clueless.”

Zoro decided it’d be best not to ask her and instead, continued to watch as Sanji smiled up at Ace, proud of what he had done. Remembering what Nami had said the first night of Sanji’s appearance, he turned to her, alarmed. “How much did you steal?”

“It’s not stealing if they’re offering,” Nami pointed out. Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “Sanji made a lot.”

Zoro shook his head. “You’re getting my friend involved in gambling and he doesn’t even know it!” He sighed. “Honestly, what are we going to do with you?”

“Love me anyway?” Nami winked at him. She leaned closer on to the table and took a glass from a passing by waiter. “But seriously, you know your boy’s making tons of money. It’s about time he actually got it,” she said. “I mean I keep the money after they hand it in and I give about 75% back to the bidders, but the other 25, I dunno, I could give Sanji say … 2?”

“2?” Zoro repeated. “If you’re going to make money off of him, at least give him some serious cash!” 

“Oh please! 2 percent of what Sanji makes is like, over 3000 and you know it. He’s good,” she added, glancing at the cook out of the corner of her eye. “Hard to believe he’s never actually gotten into real fights before. Shame he’s wasted on the poor old drunks in this joint. In a good fight, like the one against Luffy, he’d make twice as much, if not three times.”

Zoro blinked. “You think so?”

“I _know_ so.” She smirked and leaned closer. “You wanna know how much you’d make?”

“How are you supposed to know how much I’d make?”

“I can guess. Based on their liking for your fights beforehand, how many people were screaming your name and your popularity with the women …” she trailed off. “Plus, factor in your good-looks, your charm, your fighting style, your body—”

 _Wait, did I hear her right?_ “What does my body have to do with this?” Zoro demanded.

“Honey, the only reason Sanji doesn’t get triple of what most people bet, besides the fact that his opponents can’t stand upright to begin with, is because he doesn’t show any skin. He’s probably got thousands of muscles underneath that jacket—”

“Blazer,” Zoro corrected instinctively.

“Whatever, but _you_ on the other hand, are not afraid to show a little skin.” Nami let the ice circle in her glass before taking a shot. “So anyway, as I was saying, considering those past features you have, add in your actual fighting ability and then make the assumption you’re fighting someone of … say Luffy’s caliber, like what Sanji did, and I’d say you’d make at least 13.”

“Is that from the 2% or overall?”

Nami smirked. “Interested?” She shook her head. “The 50 would probably be from the 25 that I take.”

“Are we talking hundreds?”

“Hundreds?” Nami raised an eyebrow. “Baby, we’re taking _thousands_!”

“How much would someone pay to see a fight between Sanji and I?”

Nami stared at him. “You’re serious?”

Zoro nodded. “I need to pay rent.”

Nami looked at him with a strange expression, as though she was trying to figure out whether or not he was telling the truth. She seemed to decide he was and nodded promptly. Zoro could see the gears in her brain working as she tried to consider all the variables and other factors that Zoro might not have thought of. “Depends what kind of fight,” she said finally. “Would you be fighting the way you usually do, or would you be fighting seriously?”

“Say it’s a serious fight,” Zoro said. “What would it be?”

Nami scrunched up her nose in thought. “Provided Sanji makes you shed your top while fighting and the fight lasts about half an hour at least, I’d say you’d get about 17 and Sanji’d get about 10. That’s at the current skill level he’s at. I mean, he’s good this way, but if he were to fight you, you’d need to train him a bit. A little blood spilt in a match isn’t that big of a deal, but with the way you fight, Sanji would be bleeding out. If you were able to get him to about your skill level while you fought seriously, overall I’d say … 15 for you and 12 for Sanji.”

“But that’s less than at Sanji’s current level—”

“I’m not talking thousands,” Nami said. “I’m talking millions.”

 _“M-millions?_ ”

Nami nodded. “If you train the guy right, you’d be able to pay rent for your entire life and then some.” She smirked. “You interested?”

“Curious,” Zoro corrected. He turned back to the latest fight that Sanji was in. The guy was clearly drunk from the way he staggered. With a kick that barely packed a punch, he was keeling over screaming “mercy!”. 

A real fight against Sanji, huh? That might be fun.

* * *

“You want to _what_?”

Zoro rolled his eyes. Honestly, these random exclamations on Sanji’s part were beginning to get tiresome. It was kind of cute at the beginning, but now— no, it was still cute. But in a totally platonic way with no hints of homosexuality in that thought, like the way girls seemed to call everything cute, including science test tubes. That kind of cute. Sort of. _Did I just compare Sanji to a test tube?_ Zoro shook his head. 

“I’m only going to say this one more time, alright? You’re a good fighter. You beat up a ton of people at Partys and Nami’s gotten into putting money on every fight that happens. She gets a lot of money off of Luffy and you. I spoke to her and it took some time, but she’s decided she’s willing to give us 10%. I wanted 15, but she told me 10 was more than enough. If we up your game and you fought me, we could be coming back here with a lot of cash.”

Sanji simply stared at him.

“In short, I want to train you.”

“Train me? Am I a dog now?”

“You know what I mean. While you’re good, in a serious fight against me you’d last maybe thirty minutes and that’s if you’re lucky. I can teach you endurance and how to defend yourself— Look, it doesn’t matter. Do are you in or not?”

A beat and then—

“Does this mean I can pay rent?”

Zoro blinked. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Deadly.”

“I ask if I can train you in order to help us gain copious amounts of money and your only response is ‘can I pay rent?’?!” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a no?” 

“No,” Zoro admitted.

“No that’s not a no, or no that’s a no?” 

_“T'es chiant tu sais? J'sais pas comment j'ai fais pour pas t'avoir tué déjà!”_

Sanji frowned. “You’re speaking French again.”

_“Je sais!”_

“Honestly, you know I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying right now,” Sanji said, shaking his head. “If you want me to cooperate, saying mean things behind my back won’t do you any good, it’ll just make me more inclined to ignore your request. And we could be making millions right now if you weren’t wasting time talking about croissants and shit.”

“Croissants and shit?” Zoro repeated. “What the fuck do you think the French are?”

“Gay,” Sanji replied with a shrug. “What? You don’t find?”

Zoro shook his head. “That’s not the point! The point is I’m trying to be polite by asking you to train with me. We could be like, sparring partners or something. If you’re up for it and all, but if you don’t want to. I’ll just fight Luffy and make my millions another way.” Zoro turned to leave when he felt Sanji’s hand on his shoulder.

Zoro’s whole body shivered.

All physical contact between the two men had been started by Zoro. It was mainly because sometimes, he forgot about what Sanji had gone through. Sanji never initiated contact because it probably brought back bad memories. He still had the occasional tendency to flinch when Zoro tapped his shoulder to get his attention. It was … different, having Sanji touch him rather than him touching Sanji.

Sanji let go of him instantly and tried to pass off how shaken he was by smirking. “Are your fights _really_ worth that much?” 

“Yeah, so?”

“Prove it, Marimo.”

Oh, he was _so_ going to regret that.

* * *

“This,” Zoro said, pulling out a sword from its sheath, “is Sandai Kitetsu.”

Zoro knew he found the blade to be pretty, if that was an acceptable word to describe weapons that could murder someone in the blink of an eye. He took pride in owning it and enjoyed the impressed look on Sanji’s face as he took it in. He waited for a remark about how cool, or creepy it looked, but Sanji merely frowned, once the wonder wore off.

“Where’s Wado?”

Zoro snorted. “You think you deserve to be fought with her?” Zoro shook his head. “We start small and then work our way up. You’re going to start off with Sandai here.”

“How many swords do you own?” 

“Three.”

“Three?” Sanji echoed. “Who the fuck needs three swords? Do they go on a rotation or something? Like, one day you use the white one and the other day you use this one and then on Wednesdays you decide to pull out the third?”

“There’s no rotation schedule,” Zoro told him as though he were crazy. “I fight with all three. I told you, I practice Santoryu, three-sword-style.”

“Seriously?” The cook frowned. “Then why aren’t you fighting me with three swords?”

“Do you _really_ think you could handle three swords right now?” 

“Well I mean, realistically, _no_ ,” Sanji admitted. “But I like to think I could, maybe. Someday.”

“Until then, you’ll be fighting with me and I’ll be using one sword. When I think you’re ready, I’ll fight with two and finally, three. Now, are we going to start?”

They stood in the large empty alcove Zoro often used to train. Somehow, despite living in the apartment for two months, Sanji had been blind to the little gem.

“We’re going to spar. There are no limits. This isn’t like the bar fight, in this fight, we keep going until we _can’t_ get up. There will be no judges, other than ourselves. I hope you don’t like that shirt you’re wearing,” he added, nodding towards the light blue shirt with the fancy-looking cuffs. “Cause there’s a pretty high chance it’ll rip.”

“You just try it.”

And then they began.

Zoro made the first strike. He lunged forward with his sword, swiping down. Sanji jumped away in surprise, the blade barely missing him. 

“You’re seriously trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Zoro shook his head. “Stay focused,” he told him, pivoting and striking at Sanji’s side. 

Sanji dodged, stepping aside. His speed could use some work, but Sanji was a fast learner. When Zoro went to lunge at him again, Sanji quickly moved behind him, striking him in the back of his head with his foot.

“Fuck, take off your shoes!” Zoro growled, rubbing his head. 

“Scared of my soles?”

“Shut up!”

“Make me.”

He raised his sword again in front of him, sizing Sanji up. Where were his weak points?

_Analyze Zoro, analyze. His hips are his centre of balance, that's where his power comes from. He won’t use his hands so don’t waste your time worrying about that. His legs are long, so they can probably hit a large radius. Any part of his body is precious to him. Slash at his arm, he has trouble in the kitchen. Attack his legs, he has no defence. But if you attack his legs, he might just kick you in the face. If you attack his arms, that’s it for food. Fuck, where do you strike? Where, where, where?!_

“Too slow!”

_WHAM!_

Sanji’s foot collided with Zoro’s chest and he slammed into the wall. As Zoro’s body slid to the floor, he realized he was over-thinking things. If he didn’t let his instincts take over, Sanji was going to keep beating him.  

Zoro pushed himself forward off the wall to see Sanji trying to light up a cigarette. He thought Zoro was beaten. Idiot.

Zoro quickly raised his sword and slashed at Sanji’s arm. Sanji leapt back, using his lifted leg to kick, but Zoro’s blade clashed with his shin. He pushed forward forcefully and Sanji staggered back, trying to balance on one foot.

“Getting serious now, are we?” the blond teased.

Zoro went for Sanji’s arm again, but the cook dodged and wrapped his foot around Zoro’s ankle. Zoro kicked his foot outward and Sanji had to let go, lest he fall over.

Zoro gripped the hilt a little tighter. Taking the sheath, he used it to block Sanji’s attack to his head. The swordsman pushed forward again and Sanji jumped back. 

Sanji grit his teeth. Running towards the wall, Sanji kicked his way up and came down in a circle, using the momentum to kick Zoro in the back. Zoro was pushed forward towards the wall, but he quickly spun around and raised his sword to Sanji’s falling figure. Sanji then twisted his body and grabbed Zoro’s shoulders to flip himself over the green-haired man, landing on his feet behind the swordsman.

“Not bad,” Zoro admitted. 

He struck harshly at Sanji’s feet and the cook stepped back, but he was now pressed up against the wall. Using his sheath, Zoro struck Sanji in the head, the blond recoiling instinctively, exposing his neck to Zoro. With his back pressed up against the wall and his head back, he looked remarkably vulnerable. Zoro took too long to admire the view (for what reason he considered it a “view” was something he dared not swell on) because when he finally made his next move, Sanji had too.

Using the hilt of his sword, Zoro thrust it into Sanji’s stomach the same moment Sanji kicked upwards, successfully kicking Zoro in the balls.

Zoro staggered back and tried not to fall to the floor. 

**_Fuck_ ** _, that hurt._

Sanji just smirked at him, but he looked slightly winded. 

Zoro took a second to regain his composure before launching himself forward, striking Sanji’s chest with the sheath and then following up with a strike to the forehead using the butt of his sword. Sanji ducked quickly, but the sword still hit the crown of his head. He slipped to the floor, underneath Zoro. Wrapping his foot around Zoro’s ankle, he pulled him down to his level before standing back up and dusting off his hands.

“Easy,” he said, staring at the slightly dazed Zoro.

_What the fuck just happened?_

“You’re panting,” Zoro told him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

Sanji took a deep breath, trying to stop his erratic heartbeat, but it was useless since Zoro had already noticed and was smirking. “So what? So are you.”

Zoro sat up and felt his brow, feeling sweat pour down. “So I am.”

* * *

Water break time meant lying on the couch with the TV running some mindless show while Zoro and Sanji doused themselves in cold water.

With his head tossed back, Zoro poured half of his water bottle over his head. He opened his mouth, catching small drips of it. 

“Your couch is getting wet,” Sanji told him.

“So?”

Sanji sat up straighter. “So, what’s the story with that sword?” he asked, pointing to Sandai.

“You want to know the story behind my swords?”

“I dunno, know thy enemy?” Sanji shrugged. “I mean Wado had an interesting story so I figure this one must too, right?”

Zoro shook his head. “Nothing has anything on Wado.” He put his water bottle down and stared at the strange drama that was on TV. Hadn’t that girl died in the last episode? Why was she pregnant, with her brother’s child? Shaking his head, he switched it off and turned to Sanji. “I’ll tell you, if you _really_ want to know.”

“I _really_ want to know.”

“Okay,” Zoro made a big deal out of sighing.

“Yay! Sword story time with Zoro!”

Zoro glared at him jokingly. He leaned back into the now-damp cushion of his couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.  “Well, the blade’s said to be cursed,” Zoro began. 

“What, like haunted or something?”

“No, the shop owner just told me it was cursed, no specifics, not that I believe in them anyway.” Zoro shrugged. “Anyway, it’s said that those who owned this sword in the past were vicious murders who always came to horrible ends. One guy got decapitated by it. It’s a really old sword too. Curses are always better when they’re from the BC. Personally, I don’t believe in that bullshit, but not everyone’s a skeptic.”

“So how much was it?”

“The sword?” Zoro took a sip of water. “Free.”

“What do you mean it was free?” Sanji gave him a look that clearly said he thought Zoro was lying. “Nothing’s for free.”

“Oxygen is.”

“No it isn’t. In order to breathe oxygen, you have to keep breathing, in order to keep breathing, you have to keep living, in order to live, well, it costs a heck of a lot. Oxygen isn’t free.”

“Either way the sword was free. The shop owner was terrified of it, said it was totally cursed and was going to kill me in my sleep or something. Sounded like Chucky went samurai to me to be honest.” He shook his head. “He gave it to me cause I told him I wanted it. He just wanted to off his hands. It’s a good thing too, I was short on cash so I probably couldn’t have afforded it anyway.”

“So you got a free sword with the potential threat of a gruesome death awaiting you?” Sanji shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like a fair deal.”

“I just tested my luck against the sword’s curse. Turns out I’m pretty lucky.”

 “What about your other sword? The third one?”

“We’ll get to it when it comes,” Zoro said with a shrug.

“You look like a drowned cat,” he said with a laugh. Zoro tried to avoid Sanji’s hands, but he failed immensely and the cook merely grinned, ruffling his hair, while Zoro bared it. “A screwed up green cat, but still, a drowned cat all the same.” Sanji tilted his head. “Scratch that, you look like Garfield,” he decided. “All grumpy and shit, if Garfield fell into a tub of green paint. You sure this is your natural hair colour?”

A comeback was on the tip of his tongue, but Zoro held it back. He wasn’t even going to mention that Sanji had just called him fat, by associating him with that fur-ball. Zoro wouldn’t let himself think about it too much, but it kind of felt … _good_ to have Sanji playing with his hair like that. Okay, fine, he’d admit it felt nice. But that didn’t mean anything and he wasn’t ever going to repeat it.

“You know,” Sanji said, his voice sounding far off, “you wouldn’t think it’d be soft, but it’s really fluffy.”

“You did _not_ just call my hair fluffy.”

“And what if I did?”

“Then … Then …” Zoro’s face turned red, whether it was from anger or embarrassment, he didn’t know. “Shut up!”

“Run out of good insults already, Marimo?”

“Say that again, I dare you!”

“Ma-ri-mo,” Sanji repeated, elongating each syllable. 

“That’s it, break time’s over!”

* * *

When Sanji came into the alcove and folded his blazer, putting it aside, he stopped short seeing the extra sheath at Zoro’s side. It had been about two weeks since they had begun and Zoro was certain Sanji was tired of one sword. He had been begging Zoro to let him fight against more than one since sparring with Zoro had become a joke now that Sanji could read Zoro's movements.

"Seriously?"

"Sanji, meet Yubashiri."

Sanji raised an eyebrow. "Still no Wado?"

"You'll get to fight against Wado when you're ready for her," Zoro snapped. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Sanji shook his head, sizing up the sword as though by looking at it hard enough, he'd figure out how it worked.

They began.

Zoro struck once with Sandai, aiming at Sanji’s chest while Yubashiri was aimed at the junction between his knees. It snaked around Sanji’s body and wedged itself between them. Almost immediately, Zoro pulled and Sanji was forced to backflip out of the predicament Zoro had placed him in.

“That thing’s sharp!”

“All the better to slice you with, my dear,” Zoro teased before lunging forward and using both swords to attack at Sanji’s arms. The cook backed away and lifted his foot to fight, but Zoro held it in place with his two swords. Sanji’s leg was now caught between both blades. If Sanji moved, he’d probably cut himself somewhere and then there’d be blood. 

Zoro kicked at Sanji’s abdomen but the blond leaned back. Then Sanji’s hands came out and planted on the floor. He used them to lift himself up, while his foot was still stuck between Zoro’s swords, forcing Zoro’s arms to move with his foot as it lifted over Sanji’s head and finally, slammed down onto the floor behind him.

The swords wedged themselves into the floorboards and Sanji aimed a kick at Zoro’s chin, causing the man to stagger back. He took a blow to the stomach before one of his hands wrapped tightly around Sandai. With a forceful tug, he pulled the sword out and attacked Sanji with it. Sanji, more familiar with Zoro’s single-sword style, easily dodged. 

Zoro kicked at Sanji’s feet, but it did nothing to waver the man. The swordsman made an attempt at slicing through Sanji’s shirt, but the cook dodged. The maneuver caused him to hit the floor and with the few seconds it took Sanji to get up, Zoro had Yubashiri back. 

Once Sanji was standing, Zoro used the hilt of the sword to hit Sanji forcefully in the ribs, causing him to lose his breath and stagger slightly. Zoro took the other sword and made a quick cut across Sanji’s waist area. A belt loop in his pants broke off.

The green-haired man smirked, satisfied but Sanji launched himself at Zoro, kicking at his chest. Zoro fell backwards, winded. 

Sanji took aim and kicked squarely where Zoro’s neck was. It stung like a bitch. Hoarse and having slight difficultly breathing, Sanji was sure that Zoro couldn’t make another move, but Zoro drove his sword into the ground next to Sanji’s feet. The cook backed up and Zoro regained his balance, breathing heavily. 

_DING, DONG! DING, DONG!_

The two paused in their fight and Zoro took the sword out of the floor. Brushing his brow, he sent Sanji a glare. “This isn’t over yet.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sanji replied with a smirk.

Zoro opened the apartment door to see Luffy and Nami.

Luffy looked Zoro up and down, then turned to Nami. “They aren’t having sex, Nami. I told you they were fighting.”

Zoro blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then—

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Luffy grinned at him. “Nami told me you two were having sex,” he said. “Because she came by yesterday and heard lots of yelling and grunting, but I told her that wasn’t likely since you’re like a virgin and probably wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of an experienced person like Sanji.”

“I reiterate, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Sanji appeared then, with a towel around his neck. “Oi, Marimo, what’s taking so long?” He grinned, spotting Nami. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Sanji’s weakness for beautiful women was painfully obvious.

Nami frowned. “I was hoping I’d see something good,” she said with a sigh. “You’re disappointing, Zoro.”

“What? How the fuck am I disappointing? And what the fuck made you think we were having sex?”

Sanji froze at the word, his entire body stilling. 

There were tons of reasons why Sanji could’ve tensed up. It could’ve been because of the cooks, or it could’ve been because of the way Zoro had said it. It could’ve been because of the way Sanji seemed to be doing so well, only to fall back down. Was sex just a touchy subject for the blond? Zoro didn’t really care, he didn’t plan on talking to Sanji about it any time soon, or ever really.

“Look, why are you here?” Zoro asked, turning back to his two uninvited guests.

“To confirm what Nami said,” Luffy replied with a shrug. “But now that we’re here, can you make me some pork chops?”

“Do I look like your personal chef to you?”

“No,” Luffy said, “but you’re Zoro’s. Can’t I steal him for one meal?” 

It felt wrong to use possessive pronouns when it came to the blond … no one owned him, that was the whole point of his being away the Baratie. No one was in control of him and no one had any say in what he did. The whole leaving the Baratie was like an act of rebellion. An act of rebellion that Zoro had to force Sanji into doing, but an act of rebellion nonetheless. Which meant that there should be no possessive pronouns when it came to Sanji. But why did hearing that Sanji was _his_ personal chef make him this happy?

Sanji sighed. “What kind of pork chops, Luffy?” 

“Good ones,” Luffy said with a big grin.

Nami welcomed herself in, collapsing on Zoro’s couch while Luffy followed Sanji into the kitchen. “So, you took my advice?”

If Zoro ever admitted Nami was right, he would surely die. So instead, he turned away and started looking for the TV remote.

 _It’s for the sake of rent,_ he told himself. But paying rent probably wouldn’t be a problem if he just let Sanji pay in the first place. But just because Zoro was providing hospitality and shelter didn’t mean Sanji had to provide payment for rent. At least, not alone. Heck, if Zoro met anyone who cooked like Sanji, then he’d take them under his wing in a second if it meant eating their food daily. 

_That’s a lie and you know it._

The reason why Zoro let Sanji in … At the beginning, it was because he reminded him of _her_. But now it was so obvious the two were completely different, so why was he still here?

Zoro glanced at the blond from the corner of his eye.

The cook was special in his own right. Kicking ass and not even knowing he could do it. The way he cooked, the way he spoke, the way he fucking _moved_ was special in some way or another and when he fought … Zoro nearly shivered at the thought. When Sanji fought he put everything he had into it, like his cooking. It was passionate, it was fiery and it was pure _dynamite_. 

“Thinking about Sanji?”

Zoro was pulled out of his thoughts by Nami. He sent her a glare. “Come on, tell me the real reason you’re here.”

Nami shook her head. “It’s just like Luffy said, we wanted to check if you were getting laid or not.”

“Liar.”

Nami sighed. “Fine. I had another reason, I’ll admit, but my main reason was to see if you were getting it on.” Shoving her hand deep into her pocket, she pulled out a wad of cash. “It’s Sanji’s share. For his past fights.”

Zoro stared at it. “How much is this?”

“Collectively? About 2 million,” Nami said with a shrug. 

Zoro stared at the bills and then at Sanji, who was busily humming away as he made Luffy pork chops. Did he really bring in that much money?

  
Luffy, Zoro decided, had to have worse table manners than him.

He watched, amused, as Sanji tried his hardest not to show any sign of revulsion as Luffy ate. He seemed to stick his face into his plate and eat it all up, without a single thought.

“Good?” Sanji asked.

Luffy nodded, swallowing thickly before giving him a thumbs up sign. “Awesome!”

Sanji turned to Zoro. “We might not have enough meat for tonight,” he admitted. “I wanted to make steak, but it seems as though Luffy’s cleared out most of our meat storage.”

Luffy had the decency to look at least a little apologetic. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sanji told him. “I can just have Zoro here pick me up some more tomorrow.” He patted Zoro on the shoulder and smirked. “Isn’t that right, Zoro?”

“Since when am I your maid?”

“I never said you were my maid. Think of it more as … a dog who fetches me food.”

Luffy burst out laughing. “You … as a dog!” he managed to say through his fit of giggles. 

Nami couldn’t help but snicker a bit too. “I can picture it now. Zoro’s a green dog with large canine ears and sharp teeth but he wags his tail whenever Sanji feeds him left-overs.”

Zoro frowned. “It’s not that funny.”

“It kind of is,” Sanji told him. “Don’t pout, I think you’d make an adorable dog.”

_Adorable? Adorable how? Adorable like you want to pinch my cheeks and cuddle? Or adorable like that little girl who’s throwing rocks at that boy she likes is adorable, isn’t young love grand adorable? Is it a good kind of adorable or a bad kind? Fuck, what am I thinking?_

Zoro ate the rest of his meal in silence.

* * *

“Oh my, three sheaths today? Does that mean I get to fight the amazing Wado?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

“How do you plan on fighting with three swords if you only have two hands?”

“That,” Zoro replied, placing Wado in her usual spot, “is what a mouth is for.”

Sanji stared at him, as Zoro took out Sandai and Yubashiri out of their sheaths and readied himself. 

“What?” he asked through the sword.

“You know, most people would look stupid like that. But for some reason, you don’t.”

“Glad to know, can we get started?” 

They did.

Like they had been doing for the past month, Zoro attacked first. Sanji seemed especially aware of all the blades. He dodged, being careful to avoid being struck by any of them. Zoro ran towards the confident cook and caught his leg mid-kick in between two of his swords. Using his third one, he cut down Sanji’s leg, tearing the hem of his pants.

Sanji backed away from Zoro. 

With a fierce kick, he aimed for Zoro’s head, but the swordsman quickly repositioned himself so Sanji would be struck by one, or more of Zoro’s blades, if he followed through. Sanji had to stop himself mid-kick, resulting in an imbalance. He grit his teeth and took another kick at Zoro, who dodged and countered by using two of his swords to press Sanji up against the wall, the third was dangerously close to Sanji’s throat.

Sanji kicked at Zoro’s chest, causing the swordsman to stumble back and then, using a handspring, he rested himself on Zoro’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around Zoro’s head. Zoro raised his swords and threw one up into the air, Sandai, right above his head. Sanji jumped off of him and Zoro dodged the blade as it fell. He caught it once more and then readied himself to attack again.

Sanji stepped on Zoro’s toe harshly, then brought one of his legs around and kicked his knee joint. Zoro’s knees buckled and he was forced into a kneeling position. Sanji kicked at Zoro’s back, trying to send the swordsman forward, but Zoro countered by quickly turning his body and pressing against Sanji’s foot with his blades. 

“Tired?” asked Zoro.

“You wish!”

Sanji bounced off of Zoro’s sword and placed himself into a corner, considering his options. 

Zoro made to strike, when Sanji pushed off the wall and flipped.

One of his feet struck Wado, kicking so harshly that Zoro’s mouth opened in shock and the blade hit the ground. 

Sanji stood with his hands in his pockets behind Zoro.

The swordsman glared at him.

Never in all his years had he ever dropped Wado. He was so careful with her, always sure that his grip was strong and yet Sanji had thrown Wado away, as though she were _trash_.

Something ticked inside of him. It was too much. The adrenaline, the rush, Wado, the memory of _her._ He carefully placed his swords aside as he approached Sanji, his mind going blank. He couldn’t think, not with all of the blood pounding in his ears.

When he stopped in front of the cook, he was close enough to see his Adam’s apple bob.

“Zoro …”

There was something about the way Sanji’s lips said his name, the way the word came out sounding breathless. With shaking hands, Zoro reached out to Sanji, placing a hand on his cheek. 

_What the fuck are you doing?_

He didn’t know. 

He wasn’t sure what to do, his heartbeat was drowning out his common sense. He could count Sanji’s eyelashes, and feel his breath on his face. His fingers brushed softly over Sanji’s lips. Sanji’s eyes held so much conflict in them, like he wasn’t sure what to do. He bit his bottom lip, biting Zoro’s finger softly in the process. Zoro held in a groan. He could see the confusion in Sanji’s eyes, the fear. The blond looked like he wanted to step away while at the same time, he couldn’t move. Zoro didn’t let himself think, thinking was overrated anyway. Instead, he just let himself feel.

His eyes closed, as did the gap.

Soft.

Sanji’s lips felt soft. He didn’t want to see the terror or confusion on Sanji’s face, so he kept his eyes firmly shut as his lips gently slid over Sanji’s. There was barely any contact, like the ghost of a breath touching his lips. Sanji stayed frozen and Zoro’s lips stayed still for a moment. He waited. He pulled him closer slightly, but Zoro didn’t press, he didn’t push. 

When he felt the slightest twitch under his lips, Zoro pressed just a little harder. One of his callused hands snaked their way around Sanji’s body, wrapping around his waist—

_RING! RING!_

_Portgas D. Ace was going to fucking die._

Flipping his phone open, he felt Sanji struggle against him, before slipping out of his grasp. 

Zoro felt cold, as though he had taken an icy shower and it sent shivers down his spine.

“What?!”

“Is now a bad time?” At least the bastard had the sense to sound apologetic.

Zoro turned to see Sanji walking into the kitchen. His back was to him and Zoro felt an overwhelming sensation of loss. 

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. The blond was going to get himself a knife and began to cut up vegetables like nothing had fucking happened. Like Zoro’s heart wasn’t racing a million miles per hour.

“You sure?”

Zoro sighed and shut his eyes, turning away from Sanji. “Yeah, I’m sure. It was nothing. What’s up?”

Had he turned around, he would’ve seen the way Sanji’s hand shook as he cut the peppers.


	14. Twenty Questions, Limited Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER  
> Alcohol? I mean, they're both of age ... but yeah, drinking.  
> References to past abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. TADA, Sanji's opinion about that thing in chapter 13!

_Why? Why, why, whywhywhy?!_

Sanji couldn’t make sense of it. He was shaken up. No, he was _beyond_ shaken up. He was thrown into a blender on high speed, then shaken by hand while the blender kept spinning, the blades hitting him every which way, before he was placed in some giant stirring pot where some evil old hag continued to spin him around, cackling. 

Why had Zoro kissed him?

When it happened, Sanji thought it was a dream. 

He thought he had some strange, screwed up dream that involved his usual nightmare with the cooks and their abuse taking a sudden turn, but when it was over and Sanji had time to reflect on it while his shaking hands attempted to cut the damn vegetables, he realized it was impossible because no dream about the cooks— no dream in _general—_ ever involved such … kindness.

Zoro hadn’t been forceful. He hadn’t been rough and he hadn’t pressured Sanji into anything. Sure, the kiss came as a surprise but he didn’t make Sanji do anything. He didn’t _make_ Sanji kiss him back and he didn’t press the kiss any farther than it was already. Sanji could’ve moved away. He had space, he had the whole freaking alcove to move around, but he hadn’t.

_Why hadn’t he moved?_

Sanji stared out the window, still refusing to look in the mirror and gently raised a hand to his lips.

Fuck, he probably looked like some girl, but the truth was … that had been Sanji’s first kiss.

Sanji enjoyed flirting but flirting with customers at a restaurant and having a relationship were two completely different things. Most of the time, the girls either blew him off as a pesky flirt or they’d indulge him in a few minutes of banter before he returned to the kitchen. 

In all that time, there had simply never been time for a kiss. Perhaps Moodie gave him the occasional peck on the cheek, but no one had ever kissed him like that.

It felt so … _wrong_.

Everything was backwards. You were supposed to have your first kiss before your first time, weren’t you? And if you were lucky, they’d be the same person. Maybe that was just the romantic in him. 

It had been so _different_.

The cooks were rough and ruthless. They didn’t give a damn if Sanji started bleeding on the floor or if he was close to tears. They didn’t care if they hurt him or his ass. They didn’t care if he screamed or cried for help, if he told them he’d call someone or if he’d get Zeff to fire them all. They didn’t care.

With Zoro it had been gentle and caring, kind and thoughtful. It had been innocent. The lightest touch of lips against each other and it made Sanji want to cry at the sweetness of it. Did he even deserve such care? Such gentleness? After all, he was tainted. He was toxic. Who would want someone like him? Left over goods, a dirty, filthy piece of garbage left on the street? 

When Zoro had kissed him, Sanji had been in shock. His whole body had shook, his mind had gone blank and he hadn’t been able to move. His eyes were wide open when Zoro leaned in and the look on the swordsman’s face was one of peace, as though he didn’t have any troubles. Sanji had let his eyelids slide close, had let himself move just a little closer, holding in tears. 

What if Zoro had been the one who ..?

Sanji shook his head. That was wishful thinking. Besides, the man wasn’t even gay, there was no way he’d want to do _that_ with Sanji.

Would he?

Fuck, this is so confusing!

Sanji ran his fingers through his hair and let his head fall back, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Nothing made sense, nothing was grounded. He was sure he was going to go insane with the thoughts that infiltrated his mind and left him wondering desperately. He couldn’t make sense of what Zoro had done.

Had Zoro meant to kiss him? Or was he caught up in the moment? But regardless of how caught up you got, you didn’t just kiss a man if you weren’t gay, right? But … Sanji shook his head. The cook wasn’t even sure of his _own_ sexuality, so questioning Zoro’s seemed pointless. He knew for sure he hadn't liked what the other cooks had been doing, he knew he also appreciated feminine beauty, but what about other men?

Zoro wasn’t like the cooks. That thought kept repeating itself loudly in his mind. He wasn’t like the cooks and when Zoro had kissed him it was different. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the kiss hadn’t been long enough to call it good. Did that mean he was gay? But no, he appreciated the way Nami walked and her giggle. Did that make him bisexual?

_Fuck, am I really trying to figure out my sexuality based on some lousy kiss?_

But it hadn’t been lousy. 

Shit, he could go on like this for the entire day if he let himself.

He needed answers. Concrete ones. Ones that he couldn’t deny. 

And Sanji was pretty sure he had a way to get them.

* * *

“Get a glass, the beer, and a chair.”

“What?”

“We’re going to play a little game. Ever heard of Cut Video?” Sanji asked while Zoro continued to stay motionless and speechless before him. “It’s a YouTube channel where they play a game called ‘Truth or Drink’. We’re going to play.”

“What?” Zoro repeated. He shook his head profusely. “I’m quitting,” he reminded him for what seemed like the thousandth time. “And besides, what kind of beer? You know some beers are more intoxicating than others.”

“Then don’t drink. Just talk to me,” the blond said with a shrug. “You can’t go against this idea since we already did your weird-ass psychoanalysis thing. I’ll tell you how we’ll play and then we’ll get started, alright? You can’t back out, I went along with your therapist-for-a-day scheme so you’re going along with mine!”

“But mine didn’t involve me getting you drunk!”

“As if you could get me drunk.”

“Have you ever had anything other than light champagne?” 

“I reserve the right not to answer that question.”

“You’re just proving my point.”

“Look would you just get the beer? I don’t know where it is,” Sanji snapped. “I’ll get the glasses and we’ll start.”

Zoro grumbled the entire time as he took out some beer bottles from some dark corner of the fridge that Sanji had never noticed while Sanji got two shot glasses and set up the chairs across from each other at the kitchen table. Zoro took a seat and crossed his arms. “Fine, we’re set up. Let’s just get this over with.”

“You know the game ‘Twenty Questions’?”

“So?”

“So we’re going to play a mix between ‘Truth or Drink’ and ‘Twenty Questions’. Basically, the way ‘Truth or Drink’ works is that someone asks you a question and you have two options, to either tell them the truth, or to take a shot.”

“The name’s kind of self-explanatory. Look, I already know how to play ‘Twenty Questions’, so can we just start?”

“No, I’m not done yet!” Sanji snapped. “You can pass as many questions as you want in our game, but you have to answer a total of twenty before the game is over, understood? I don’t care how intoxicated you become, you will answer a total of twenty. We each have to answer twenty so at least forty questions will be asked, fair?”

“What if someone passes out in the middle of the game?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. “And how do you determine a winner?”

“Are there ever any real winners in drinking games?”

Zoro bit the inside of his cheek and turned away.

“Do you want to start?” Sanji asked. “I have a piece of paper here,” he gestured towards the small scrap on the table. There was a T-chart on it with the letters _S_ and _Z_ on it. “It’ll help us keep track of the number of answered questions,” he said. 

“Fine,” Zoro sighed. “You and your cracked up games … What’s your last name?”

Sanji scoffed. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know it, you know mine. It seems like a fair question.”

“Don’t have one.”

As Sanji put a tally of one underneath his letter on the T-chart, he could already tell Zoro was going to scream.

 _“Don’t have one?”_ And there it was. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t have one?” The swordsman shook his head. “Not possible, everyone has one! Everyone!”

“Okay, maybe I should be more specific. It’s not that I don’t have one, it’s that I don’t remember it,” Sanji said. It was true, as far as Sanji was concerned his name was Sanji and that’s where the name started and ended. When you were a system kid like he was, you learnt it didn’t matter to have a last name. It’d change every few months anyway and eventually, you’d be nameless once more when you got back. You always came back because no one ever wanted you. After Zeff he just didn’t feel like he needed one. It wasn’t like he had any special paperwork or anything he needed to sign, there was no reason to have one. Last names were trivial. “Happy?” Zoro gaped at him, but Sanji pushed forward. He knew instantly what he wanted to ask Zoro, but he decided to wait before he jumped onto his main reason for the game. “How’d you get those three piercings?”

Zoro scoffed. “Sixteenth birthday,” Zoro said with a shrug. “I wanted to look cool, so I figured—”

“The best way to become cool is to bullet three holes into your ear.”

Sanji put another tally next to Zoro’s name. 

“Okay,” Zoro said slowly. “Why’d you start cooking in the first place?”

Sanji thought about it. What did he have to lose telling Zoro? He bit his bottom lip and mulled over his words. What should he say? “I … don’t want anyone to go hungry. I know hunger. And it’s not pleasant. So I want to help prevent any hunger for others as much as I can,” he shrugged. “And if I can only help those in front of me, that’s better than doing nothing, isn’t it?”

Zoro was silent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re pretty deep, when you want to be.”

Sanji didn’t know what to say so instead, he marked another tally. “Who did that sword belong to?” Sanji asked. “Wado, the white katana.”

Zoro looked at him. He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. He stared at the glass and the bottle of beer. “I …” He seemed at a loss for words. Sanji watched in silence as Zoro took a deep breath to calm his head. He said nothing, knowing Zoro needed to think about this. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet.”

Sanji nodded and gestured towards the glass.

Zoro winced. He looked away from it and frowned. “I don’t want to drink.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t!”

Zoro’s voice cracked at his words and Sanji’s eyes widened. Zoro turned his head away, smacking his hands against the table he stood up abruptly. He looked … fuck, Zoro looked close to tears. “I can’t tell you right now,” Zoro repeated, his fists clenching. “Maybe I could some other time, but don’t make me do this right now.”

Sanji didn’t want to press the shot into Zoro’s hands, but that was the way it worked. Those were the rules, not that there were many.

“I’ll drink it,” Sanji offered. “Just this once, but next time you’ve got to drink.” 

Zoro nodded, swallowing. He looked like he had just run a marathon, his breathing uneven, clearly shaken. The green-haired man bit the inside of his cheek as Sanji tossed his head back and drank. The beer burned his throat. 

Sanji hated alcohol. It added a nice flavour in small amounts in certain dishes, but the rawness of it as it scorched his esophagus wasn’t something he’d like to experience on a daily basis. How Zoro used to drink all the time was beyond him. Then again, many said the same about his smoking. 

Zoro blinked a few times, as though trying to hold back tears before he spoke again. “How long have you worked at the Baratie?”

“Fourteen years.”

That was three under Sanji, one under Zoro.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Sanji wasn’t that curious. Just a little.

“Yes.”

Three Sanji, two Zoro.

“Have _you_ ever had a girlfriend?” Zoro asked.

“You can’t do that!” 

“Can’t do what?”

“You can’t just ask me a question I already asked.”

Zoro scoffed. “Really?”

“Really!” 

Zoro shook his head. “I’m not changing my question.”

Sanji bit his lip. “Fine. I don’t know why you’re curious, but no, I haven’t.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes really, now can we move on?” 

“It’s your question.”

Oh. Right. Sanji knew that. Fighting down a blush, Sanji tried to think of something. Anything to ask Zoro. “Why’d you kiss me?” he blurted out. It was the only thing on his mind, wondering why it was that Zoro had done it. It made no sense to him, whatsoever. He couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on in that simple mind of that Marimo’s, so why was this so hard to understand?

Zoro blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Why did you kiss me?”

Zoro shook his head and took the glass, throwing it back like an expert. He may not have had any serious alcohol in a while, but the man still remembered how to drink a shot. He leaned back forward, the glass hitting the table with a loud _thud_. He wiped the back of his mouth with his arm and smirked. “Who’s the head chef at your restaurant?”

“It’s not my restaurant,” Sanji told Zoro, rolling his eyes. 

“You work at it—”

“I haven’t worked there in weeks thanks to you,” Sanji reminded him. Though he tried to sound venomous, he couldn’t do it. 

If he really thought about it, where would he be now if Zoro hadn’t taken him in? Probably on the kitchen floor, considering the time it was, holding his stomach. He might have been covered in cum again, he’d definitely be crying after trying to hold it in for hours. Would he have cut? Most definitely. God, had he always been this depressing? Shoving that thought out of his mind, he decided to answer Zoro’s question. 

“His name’s Zeff,” Sanji said. “How’d you get into kendo?”

“A friend.”

Sanji: five. Zoro: three.

“You’re very vague you know.”

“Fine, a close friend.”

“That makes everything more specific, doesn’t it?” Sanji shook his head. “Never mind. You ask.”

“You said where you lived before wasn’t the kind of place that took kids to the movies. Where did you live?”

Sanji took another shot. “When’d you start drinking?”

Zoro’s face scrunched up in thought. “Um, I think I might have been fourteen?” He shook his head. “No, fifteen. I really started drinking the year afterwards.”

Sanji: five, Zoro: four.

“Since when do you smoke?” Zoro asked.

“Nine.”

Six, four.

“Why do you drink?” Sanji asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re an athlete, I don’t think it’s good for your liver.”

“Worried about me, cook?” Zoro challenged.

“You wish.”

“No idea, really, I’m pretty sure I had a reason, but that was so long ago, I don’t even remember anymore.” He shrugged. “Not all that important now anyways.”

Six, five.

“Your parents, who were they?” Zoro asked. “Some show off cooks or something?”

“Didn’t know them.”

Seven, five.

“I’m sorry.”

Sanji looked at Zoro strangely. “What are you sorry about?” He frowned. “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

“What? No!” 

“I was kidding,” Sanji said. “It’s not your fault, there’s no reason to be sorry. I hate when people apologize for no reason.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Wastes my time assuring them there’s nothing wrong, which of course makes them think something _is_ wrong. Not everyone’s trying to play a big game of reverse psychology, you know.” He shook his head. “Anyway, how do you keep out of the press? I did a search on you a while after you started coming to the Baratie frequently, wanted to know if you were bad for the restaurant—”

“I was a paying customer! Besides, what makes you think I’m a bad person? Do I look like some serial murderer or something?”

Sanji chewed on his cigarette.

“Very funny.”

“Anyway, there weren’t any rumours or shit like that about you in the press. How’d you keep out of it?”

“You curious?”

“Interested, more like it.”

“So you’re entertained?” 

Sanji smirked. “What do you think?”

Zoro thought about it. “I don’t know, it’s not that hard to keep out of the press. I just don’t give away any personal information, like my address and avoid the public in general. They rarely ever see me if I’m not at some competition of some sort, so I guess I just never gave them a chance to start rumours.”

Seven, six.

Zoro bit his bottom lip in thought.

“Can’t think of anything?” Sanji asked.

“No, I’m just trying to chose my words carefully.” Zoro thought a little longer. “Why … why didn’t you leave? The Baratie, I mean.”

Sanji took a shot.

“Oh come on, if you don’t answer any of the questions I want answers to, then what’s the point of this game?” Zoro asked.

_Well you didn’t my questions either. What’s the big deal with that sword? And why did you kiss me? Why won’t you tell me?_

The game went on like this for a while and by the time the score was sixteen for Sanji, seventeen for Zoro, Zoro seemed pretty wasted. He had given up on taking shots and had started drinking straight from the bottle.

Sanji wasn’t doing any better either. His vision was starting to become a little hazy and it took a lot of effort not to fall out of his seat. He wasn’t used to alcohol and he was sure that as soon as the game was over, he was going to hurl everything out. Maybe sooner, if the game didn’t speed along faster. They still had a few questions to go, four for Sanji and three for Zoro. For nearly two hours they had been at it, Zoro stubbornly refusing to answer many questions while Sanji just didn’t feel comfortable answering others. He felt as though his tongue was getting a bit loose, or maybe it was just too big for his mouth now so he found himself answering more questions than he thought he would, but he avoided all questions that closely reminded him of the Baratie. It seemed though the drunker they got, the less important the questions were.

“Mine turn!” 

Zoro frowned. “My turn.”

“S’not your turn, it’s mine turn!” Sanji told him, rolling his eyes. He felt dizzy doing so, the whole room spinning. _Note to self, don’t roll your eyes even when the Marimo’s being an idiot, doing so may lead to eyeballs falling out of their sockets._

“Grammar!” Zoro whined. “S’not mine turn, it’s my turn. But it’s your turn so go!” 

Sanji didn’t even try to make sense of what Zoro said. He had given up on understanding the swordsman. “Hm, okay …” He tilted his head slightly and looked at the green-haired man from a different angle. He had a strong jaw-line and his features were sharp, but they didn’t look cutting. His hair was soft, if Sanji remembered right. Reaching out without even giving it a thought, Sanji let his fingers trail through Zoro’s hair. Yup, his hair was soft. “Why’s your hair so fluffy?” he asked.

“S’not fluffy!” 

“Yes it is!”

“No, s’not, take that back!”

Zoro was pouting! Dear God, the man crossed his arms over his chest and his bottom lip was pursed outwards. There was no denying the fact that Roronoa Zoro was pouting. Sanji couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “You look funny!”

“You look funny!” Zoro snapped back. “And if my hair really is fluffy, which it’s _not_ —”

“Yes it is, Marimo!”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “It’s not, but if it _is_ , which I repeat, it’s _not_ , cause you’re delusional and shit, it’s probably cause of the weird shampoo Nami keeps getting me.”

Sanji laughed again. If he hadn’t lost his mind and knew what he was doing, then he’d realize he sounded like he was on helium and would go and die in a corner out of embarrassment accordingly but apparently, Sanji’s good mind had gone off on vacation with nothing more than a Post-It note on the door before leaving him without his inhibitions. “A girl buys your shampoo!” he said with another laugh. 

“Shuddup!” Zoro slurred. 

Sanji began laughing all over again. 

When he began to calm down, he found Zoro was staring at him, unblinkingly.

“What are you staring at?”

“You.”

“Don’t do that, it’s creepy.”

“I’ll stare if I want to! ‘sides, s’your fault.”

“How the fuck is it my fault?”

“You’re too pretty!”

Sanji blinked.

He felt as though he had suddenly sobered up at Zoro’s words, but it was obvious the swordsman was already gone. “Pretty?” he repeated. “Whaddya mean?”

“I dunno,” Zoro said. He laid back on the table, taking a strand of Sanji’s hair and wrapping it around his fingers. “Your hair’s kind of long, ya know?”

Sanji shook his head. “You’re just blind,” he assured him.

“But I dunno, you look pretty sometimes,” Zoro mumbled.

“Sometimes?” Sanji repeated, a small part of his brain actually processing this conversation and labelling it as important. “What do ya mean sometimes?”

“Like … like when you fight,” Zoro said. “Like when ya beat someone up, you look real happy.” He shrugged, pulling at Sanji’s hair again, forcing the blond to come even closer. He could smell the alcohol on Zoro’s breath. Zoro let out a laugh as Sanji’s breath tickled his nose before he stopped and their eyes connected. He seemed to sober up for a moment. “Hey Sanji?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a really pretty eye.”

Sanji’s breath hitched. What was Zoro saying? Did Zoro even know what he was saying? Did _Sanji_ know what Zoro was saying?

Instead of dwelling on it, he let out a chuckle. “Oh yeah? Only one?”

“Bastard, that’s cause I can only see one!” Zoro told him. He rolled a little more and Sanji backed up. Zoro fell off the table onto the floor with a thud. “Fucking hard floors,” he muttered, standing back up. “Whose question was it?”

 _Question? What’s he talking about? We need to ask questions?_ But then Sanji remembered his proposal which seemed so far away to him and he nodded, thinking back. “Mine,” he said.

Eighteen for Zoro, sixteen for Sanji. Or was it seventeen? Had he really answered why he was pretty? He wasn’t sure. Eh, didn’t matter really, did it?

“Hmm…. oi! Marimo, is all your hair really green?”

Zoro shook his head. “‘ve already told ya, it’s green!”

“All of it?”

“All of it!”

Sanji smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Prove it!”

Without blinking, Zoro pulled his shirt over his head. It would’ve been a nice, clean removal, had it not gotten caught in Zoro’s earrings.

“You look so fucking stupid!” Sanji giggled.

“I can’t see!” Zoro giggled, trying to fight his way out of his shirt. “Am I blind? I’m not gonna be happy if you’ve blinded me, Sanji!”

“If you turn out blind, it’s your own damned fault!”

“Don’t laugh like that, you sound like a witch!”

“Shut your face!”

“What’s that supposed to mean? AHA!” Zoro finally pulled the shirt over his head triumphantly and threw it to the floor in a heap. 

Sanji stared.

Zoro was … well, Zoro was _fit_. Not that he really expected anything less from the swordsman but still … There were grooves and dips in Zoro’s chest, an obvious six-pack. It was amazing. Sanji stepped closer and gently ran his hands across Zoro’s chest, feeling it under his fingers. He barely realized what he was doing and his brain didn’t seem to process any of his movements, didn’t even seem to register what Sanji was doing. He could see a small trail of green hair leading towards to the V of Zoro’s hips With his hair mused and his face flushed, he looked as though he had been thoroughly fucked. Letting his hands slide over Zoro’s triceps, Sanji’s gaze didn’t know where to look when he heard a strange sound.

Zoro was laughing. Howling, was more accurate.

“S-stop that!” He gave Sanji a light push and the cook landed on the floor with a soft thud. Zoro giggled. He actually _giggled_. “It’s ticklish,” he said through his laughter. 

“Ticklish?” Sanji repeated. He wanted to test his theory, but Zoro jumped away with speed and steadiness that no drunk person should have. Zoro yawned slightly. Nineteen for Zoro, sixteen for Sanji. Nah, seventeen. He liked to think he was closer to the swordsman’s score than that. 

“Okay, my question!” Zoro said. “You stay on that side! Don’t come closer.” He seemed to think for a minute. “Did you like it?”

“Like what?” Sanji asked in a haze. 

“The kiss.”

Sanji stared at Zoro. He couldn’t formulate an answer. He couldn’t think of one. He knew he hadn’t hated it, but he was too confused to come up with a real answer or response to what happened. He couldn't find an emotion he could label it as. He couldn’t find a way to describe it. “It was … different,” said Sanji.

“But did you _like_ it?” Zoro pressed.

Sanji found his tongue tied, his voice caught in his throat. “I …”

“Cause … I didn’t really mind it,” Zoro told him. “Dunno, haven’t kissed that many different people, so can’t really compare that much, but eh …” he shrugged. “Wasn’t bad.”

 _Wasn’t bad?_ Great, was Zoro just asking Sanji to decipher his every word? He couldn’t figure it out! He looked at Zoro straight in the eye and repeated the one question he really wanted an answer to. “Why did you do it?”

Zoro looked at him with lazy, tired eyes. “I dunno.”

Sanji wanted to smack him and tell him that wasn’t an answer, not an acceptable one and not one he was allowed to give.

Sanji shook his head. He backed away from Zoro and slowly sat on the floor, leaning his head against one of the table’s legs. He tossed his head back and held in a scream. He couldn’t figure out how to word this, he couldn’t figure out what to think of it. He didn’t know why Zoro had kissed him, Zoro didn’t know … If Sanji knew _why_ , maybe he could put a name to this strange feeling in his stomach. But he couldn’t because Zoro didn’t fucking know why himself.

Sanji reached above him and grabbed the bottle of beer. He had lost count of how many bottles they had had, but this one was nearly empty. Tossing his head back, he drank the rest of the contents, his body fighting against him as he forced himself to swallow its bitter taste. It tasted bitter, making him shiver with its unpleasantness. It matched his confusion.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but when Sanji closed his eyes that night, falling asleep on the floor for the first time in nearly two months, he had a single thought, one he wasn’t sure was because of the alcohol or some fucked up Freudian theory.

_I wish he had wanted to._


	15. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> References to past abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Ah, forgot how slow my burn actually is....

Hangovers sucked ass. 

It was safe to say Zoro couldn’t even remember the real reason why he started drinking in the first place. He hadn’t gotten a hangover in so long, he had forgotten what they felt like and the pounding in his head was not welcome. Nor was the cold breeze on his chest. 

Opening an eye, the entire room spun before it slowly came into focus. He felt around his chest and realized he was shirtless. Why was he shirtless? He couldn’t remember.

Sanji wouldn’t let him make a fool of himself, would he? This wasn’t going to be like that one time when Zoro was getting used to alcohol that he woke up in some stranger’s backyard with lipstick on his cheek, soaked from head to toe with the fire slowly dying in the in-ground pool, would it? Then again, he was still in his apartment, so that was a good sign.

Zoro groaned, turning over. He felt the cool of the wood against his back, it was uncomfortable and his back was starting to hurt. He was a month away from twenty-three, he wasn’t allowed to complain about back pain until he was at _least_ in his late forties. 

Using a chair to hoist himself up, Zoro stood upright and felt the world spin once more.

Every sound seemed like a giant megaphone was placed directly in front of his ear, he could hear the sound of … _retching_?

_What happened last night?_

Sanji had told him to get the beer, they had sat at the table … He got upset when Sanji asked about _Her_ and then Sanji had drank a bit and then Zoro had drank a bit and then … _Fuck and then what?_ Zoro ran his fingers through his hair, a memory hitting him. Sanji had played with his hair, Zoro had said something about Nami … Shit, this was why he hated getting drunk. The hangovers, the memory-blanks …

If Sanji had drank that first glass in place of Zoro and obviously the cook hadn’t wanted to tell him everything either, then they had been both been drinking a lot, which meant—

“Fuck!”

Zoro tried to ignore the unsteadiness of his feet as he rushed into the bathroom to see Sanji leaning over the toilet, emptying his stomach’s contents. The blond had sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyes shut tightly as his knuckles turned white, gripping the toilet bowl.

“Sanji?” 

“I hate you,” the cook muttered and Zoro felt cold.

_Hate? He hates me?_

Despite Sanji’s personal space issues, Zoro had thought they had been getting closer. He didn’t flinch as much from his touch, and even initiated some himself. He hadn’t freaked out when Zoro had kissed him either.

And that’s when the stench reached him.

“You know, this is your fault.” The amusement was clear in his voice. 

“Don’t remind me,” Sanji groaned, taking a few deep breaths. 

“How’s your stomach? Do your sides hurt?”

“Are you a doctor now?” Sanji lurched forward, but nothing came out as one of his hands snaked around his stomach. He let out a bitter laugh. He kept his mouth slightly open, as though he was expecting himself to puke again.

How long Sanji had been like this? Did he get alcohol poisoning by accident? The beer had been a bit old … “I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

He came back to Sanji and handed them to him, along with a glass of water. “Before you take them, do you think you’re going to puke again?”

“Why does that matter?” asked the blond, grabbing them out of Zoro’s hands.

“It takes a few minutes for them to kick in, but if you hurl them out before they take affect, they’re pointless. It’s counter-productive.”

“Just let me take them, bastard,” Sanji muttered. He put the pills in his hand and tossed his head back, swallowing them, washing down the aftertaste.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sanji stood up shakily, ignoring him.

It was weird to see the cook hungover.

The blond’s usually well-kept hair was an untidy mess. In fact, if he squinted, he could see the beginning of his other eye. His eyes, on that note, looked dead. They were tired with bags underneath them, the curly eyebrow looking menacing and his jaw was set, his mouth in a thin line. He was paler than usual and his breath reeked. Gone was the gentleman-like cook who served him at the Baratie, and in his place was a stranger with a rather amusing facial expression. Zoro wasn’t going to lie, Sanji did _not_ look attractive like this. But if he imagined Sanji’s cheeks just a little redder, took away his horrible breath, positioned his head just a little back and turned Sanji’s groans of complaint into soft moans, he was sure he knew what the cook looked like in the middle of the throes of passion.

Zoro blushed and looked away. “Anyway, what do you remember?”

“Um … well, green is your natural colour,” Sanji said, blinking through the light, trying to get accustomed to it. “Course, you didn’t explain why at all or anything.” He frowned. “What kind of screwed up genes do you have?”

“What kind of screwed up genes do _you_ have, Cook?” 

Sanji didn’t dignify him with a response, instead heading to the kitchen, walking off his headache as though he could retain some of his dignity. “Hungry, Marimo?”

“You wish, cook.”

Zoro’s stomach growled.

“How’s bacon and eggs?” 

“Fine with me.”

Zoro went to his room and took some pills himself. With a look in the large mirror, he had to admit he didn’t look much better than Sanji. 

His eyes were bloodshot, his usually tanned complexion slightly whiter. He didn’t look pasty or sickly, but Zoro could admit he had seen better days. 

What did he remember from the night before? The question about Her, a question about whether or not he was gay, he remembered that one vaguely, but he had already been pretty gone at that point and he couldn’t remember what his reply had been. 

_“Why did you do it?”_

Okay, _that_ question he remembered. He remembered Sanji had asked him twice. And each time, Zoro had no idea what to say. He really thought he should know himself better than this. He didn’t go around kissing random people. In fact, he could probably count on one hand the number of people he had kissed in his life, and that _included_ family members. So what _had_ he been thinking? The kiss was so vivid in his mind but the moments leading up to it were foggy. He wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute Wado was on the ground, the next his lips were on Sanji’s. He needed answers.

Unfortunately, Zoro only knew one place to get them.

_I’m going to regret this._

* * *

The perfect reason to leave the apartment came a few hours later when Sanji walked into the kitchen and frowned. “I’m out of cigarettes. Could you buy me a pack?”

“King Ground, right?”

“Yeah.”

Zoro left the apartment and got into a taxi. It’d be faster that way, and he didn’t have time to waste trying to figure out how many left turns he should’ve taken. He gave the taxi driver Luffy’s address and in fifteen minutes, he was outside the straw hat’s house.

Zoro gave the man his money before ringing the doorbell, rocking on the soles of his feet. 

Why did he feel so awkward? It was just Luffy. Maybe it was the topic of conversation that was driving him insane, making him look over his shoulder like he expected someone to turn up and assassinate him or something. He was starting to think like Usopp.

The door opened and Luffy grinned at him. “Zoro! How’ve you been? What’s up?”

“Um, can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure!” Luffy called behind him, “Nami! Guess who’s here?”

There was a chuckle and then Zoro could hear Nami’s undeniable footsteps approaching. “Well I’m going to say it’s a sexually confused, scatter-brained Marimo, who fights with three swords.” She turned the corner and grinned at Zoro. “And I was right. Imagine that.”

Luffy gave Zoro a strange look. “Sexually confused? What, did you actually have sex with Sanji?”

“What? No!” Zoro shook his head profusely. “I just … I kind of need advice.”

Nami’s eyes widened and her grin split so large, Zoro was sure her face was going to crack. “Really? In that case, don’t listen to anything Luffy says and trust me. Usopp’s also not to be bothered with, he couldn’t possibly understand what’s going on in your head.”

“And you do?” Zoro asked skeptically.

“Of course I do,” Nami said. “I went through the same thing! Well, in my case it wasn’t towards someone of the same sex, but still, it’s still the same, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t what?” Zoro shook his head. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, you haven’t even heard what I need to talk about!”

“I can guess.” Nami was giving him a knowing look and he didn’t like it.

“I’m the one who’s going through a mid-life crisis while not actually being in the middle of my life—”

“You never know that Zoro,” said Luffy cheerfully. “Maybe 44 is as old as you get.”

Zoro sent him a glare. “Not funny.”

“Look, why don’t you just come in and sit down first?” Nami suggested. “Then you can tell us all about it.”

Zoro took a seat and tried to calm down his breathing. He made a mental note to remember to actually get Sanji that pack of cigarettes.

“So, Zoro, what have you been up to?” Luffy asked. “I mean you come to the bar every now and then, but you still haven’t fought Sanji yet and Nami says he’s still probably going through training. You don’t talk to us as much as you used to.” Luffy looked slightly saddened at this. “I mean I know you get a bit preoccupied with your new boyfriend and all—”

“Sanji isn’t my boyfriend!”

“—but that isn’t a reason to ignore us all. I balance having Nami as a girlfriend just fine with my social life.” Luffy frowned. “Is Sanji like, leaking pheromones that are making you guys go at it like rabbits? I never understood why rabbits had to have such a big family in the first place—”

“Thank you for that Luffy, but I’m not getting laid,” Zoro said and he had to admit that in all his years, he had never had a conversation this strange. 

“Of course you aren’t,” said Nami, putting a cup of coffee on the table, “otherwise you’d be like, ten times happier and glowing. When was the last time you got any?”

“Can we not talk about my sex life?”

“You mean your _lack_ of a sex life?”

“Nami!”

Said redhead laughed. “You’re too innocent Zoro. Aw, you’re blushing, how cute.” Zoro turned his head away. “But seriously, what’s been up? What happened?”

“I would get to that, if you’d stop asking me questions every second.”

Nami gave him an apologetic smile that didn’t feel all that apologetic. Something told him Nami liked watching him squirm. “Sorry Zoro, you can start talking.”

Without interruptions, Zoro had the floor, but he didn’t know what to say. He bit the inside of his cheek in thought. What should he say? What words should he use? What could he say without Nami acting like some slash-loving-fangirl? Probably nothing.

“I … I just …” Zoro sighed and leaned his head back, fisting his hair in his hands. “This is so confusing!” To their credit, Nami and Luffy stayed silent as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Something happened … A few nights ago was the first time I fought him with three swords. It was good. He’s getting really good, you know. He’s got his kicks and aim on target. It’s a major improvement, he’s got all sorts of ticks up his sleeve now and— anyway, after a few minutes of sparring, he did this … _thing_ , I don’t even know how to describe it. Just one second I had Wado in my mouth and the next, she was on the floor a few feet away from me.” Zoro shook his head. It was crazy to think that a swordsman of his caliber had been disarmed so easily … “And …” He swallowed unsteadily, leaning his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “And then there were a few seconds where something happened, like my body moved on autopilot and then I was standing in front of him and …” He took a shaky breath. “There was this small space between us and then … and then there just _wasn't_ anymore … I don’t … I don’t even know what came over me, or if it was even me doing it, it was like I was in a trance or something and I couldn’t break free. I was just … I just let myself move and— I don’t even know what to do now,” he said. “I’m just so … I’m so confused.”

The silence seemed to cut through the air like a knife when—

“Hey everybody, Usopp’s here to party and— why’s everyone so quiet?”

Everyone immediately snapped their heads to the front door’s entrance to see Usopp standing there, confusion written clearly all over his face. “Since when is Zoro here?”

Both Nami and Luffy sent Usopp a glare.

“Is now a bad time?”

Zoro shook his head and stood up. “No,” he said at the same time Nami said, “Yes!”.

Usopp slowly backed away, heading outside once more. “Okay, I’m going to listen to the lady and—”

“No Usopp,” Zoro said. “You don’t have to go. I was just leaving—”

“But you _just_ got here,” Luffy reminded him.

“And you just started talking,” Nami added. “Usopp can leave—”

“He doesn't have to,” Zoro cut in quickly. “Anyway, Sanji needs some new cigarettes so—”

“Zoro, _sit_. Usopp, take a seat in the kitchen. If you really feel like you have to jump into our conversation with Zoro, do so, but don’t say anything stupid.” Nami turned her attention towards the swordsman. “You’re not leaving here until we’ve sorted this out.”

Zoro stared at her, unable to speak. Finally, he managed a, “Whaa?”

“Sit,” she repeated. “Usopp, in the kitchen.”

“But—”

“ _Now_.”

Usopp scurried off into the kitchen and took his seat, fiddling with his thumbs absent-mindedly. Luffy’s girlfriend was scary. Zoro sat obediently.

“Good, now,” Nami said, leaning closer to him. “So you kissed him. Then what?”

“Wait, Zoro kissed who now?” Usopp asked, jumping out of his seat. “How come I never heard about this?”

Nami rolled her eyes. “Sanji; he kissed Sanji, okay? Now, you were saying?”

“Since when is Zoro gay?”

“Since a few nights ago,” Nami snapped. “Zoro, speak before he manages to open his stupid mouth again, alright?”

Zoro wasn’t even sure what to say. It felt like he was at an intervention or something of the sort. He wanted to get the fuck out of there, but Nami had this look in her eyes that made it clear Zoro wasn’t leaving until they had sorted everything out.

“I just … I don’t even know how to react,” Zoro managed to say. “Am I thinking too much about this? Cause he sort of seems to have forgotten about it.”

“Hold up! Zoro kissed Sanji? As in Sanji the cook who’s _male_? Who had Makino blushing for a week? _That_ Sanji?” Usopp shook his head. “Did you get drunk or something? I thought you were quitting.”

“I _am_ quitting,” Zoro assured him. “And I wasn’t drunk.” 

“You look a bit like you do after a bad hangover though,” Nami pointed out.

“Okay, yes, I _did_ drink, but that was last night and Sanji started it!”

Nami rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you sound like you’re in grade school or something.”

“It was his idea,” Zoro said. “Some stupid game with ‘Twenty Questions’ and that shit. Either way, I’m not too eager to start drinking again,—”

“You always say that after a hangover and then you’re back to the booze again.”

“Yes, but this time I’ve been sober for nearly four months,” Zoro pointed out. “Anyway, you’re not helping my problem!”

“Look, I swear, no more getting off topic. Just … we’ll take this slowly, okay?” Nami said. “First, how did he react?”

“He …” Fuck, what was he supposed to say? He barely even knew how he himself reacted! He just knew that he had kissed him and felt slightly disappointed by the fact that Sanji was able to cut up his fucking vegetables with ease. “He didn’t really … do anything,” he said slowly. “Just kind of like … stood there, frozen.”

“That’s not a rejection.”

“But that wasn’t exactly a go-ahead either,” Usopp offered helpfully.

Nami hit him with a couch pillow. “No one asked for your input!” Turning back to Zoro, she said, “How about you? How did you feel after?”

“Confused,” Zoro admitted. “I’m _still_ confused.” He bit his lip, sure it was going to start bleeding if he chewed it anymore. “I don’t know, it was short, brief and all. It wasn’t like one of those things you see in movies, it wasn’t a hot make-out session, but it definitely wasn’t a peck on the lips either. It was just … I dunno, it was just a kiss. Plain and simple.”

“But how did it make you _feel_?”

“What are you, a therapist? I don’t know, I’m telling you, _I don’t know!_ ” He sighed. “I wish I did though. He asked a few times last night why I did it. And I’ve got no fucking clue what to tell him.”

“Hey Nami,” Luffy interjected, “can I talk to Zoro for a second? Alone?”

Nami looked at him strangely. “You?”

“Yeah. You know, like bro-talk.”

“What about me, Luffy?” asked Usopp.

Luffy looked at him. “It’s more of a … Zoro and Luffy bro-talk,” he corrected himself. “Please Nami? Just give me like, ten minutes with him.”

Usopp frowned. “He’s in a vulnerable state of mind right now, Luffy. If you take advantage of him—”

“Take advantage of me?” Zoro cut him off. He snorted. “As if he could and even if he tried, he’d be flying out the window screaming in pain before he got the chance.”

Nami looked at Zoro, then Luffy for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Ten minutes, no more, no less.”

“Okay,” Luffy told her with a big smile.

Nami and Usopp left the room, Nami dragging Usopp by the ear as he complained about how he should be included in the “bro-talk”, Nami telling him to get over it and stop being such a baby.

Once they were alone, they sat in silence for a while.

Zoro turned to Luffy. “Look, you don’t need to—”

“I love Nami,” Luffy said cutting him off.

Zoro gave him a strange look. “How is that relevant?”

“You want to know why?”

“I’m guessing you’re going to tell me, whether I want to know or not, right?”

“Right,” Luffy said with a laugh. “You’re smart. Nami’s smart too,” he added fondly. “And she has a really great smile. I like it when she laughs too. And she’s really dedicated to what she likes. I like her weird tangerine obsession, and her tattoo is really hot. I like the look in her eyes when she gets really excited, where they kind of just … _come alive_ and she shines, and the way she seems to find a way to bet on everything—”

“You know, that’s not necessarily a good thing—”

“—and she fights for what she wants. I like how she takes charge and doesn't take shit from no one. She’s always getting caught up in those big books of hers, and she reads them to me sometimes, I mean I mostly fall asleep when she does that, but her voice is really soothing. I like how she knows exactly what I’m thinking sometimes and how she lets me do what I want, well, most of the time. I like how she knows to keep the fridge stocked with meat and how I’m on her speed dial and I also really like this thing she does with her tongue,—”

“Okay Luffy, I think I get it,” Zoro cut him off. “You love Nami. Do you want me to clap my hands and say ‘bravo’? Just cause you’re completely fine with your sexuality and understand everything that’s going on inside your head, doesn’t mean I do, which is why I’m kind of in this whole crisis in the first place and—”

“What do you like about Sanji?”

Zoro stared at him. “I … what?”

“What do you like about Sanji?” Luffy repeated. He didn’t sound annoyed that Zoro didn’t understand what he was talking about, he just waited, with that same idiotic smile on his face.  

“I … I don’t know.”

“So there isn’t anything about him you like? I mean, you took him in and put a roof over his head. It can’t be because you hate him, right?”

“Well, I mean no, I wouldn’t do it if I hated him …”

“Exactly, which means you have to like something about him. So what is it?”

“Well, I don’t know. I … I like his cooking,” Zoro said slowly.

“Okay, what else?” Luffy pressed gently.

“And … I like it when he fights. Watching him fight is … it’s really amazing. I like the look he gets on his face when he finishes a cigarette, like he’s just had a really good meal. I like the way he laughs, but not the kind of laughter when he’s just trying to be polite,” he added quickly. “It’s when he laughs like he means it, his eyes just … they start _shining_. He’s really polite, but then he swears like there’s no tomorrow if he stubs his toe on the coffee table. It’s when he starts smirking that you know he’s really confident about himself, and I really love when that happens. And the rare times when he gets shy, they’re really adorable. When he touches me by accident, I get really happy, because he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and it means he trusts me more. Oh and the way he always fights back. He won't lie down, not for anyone. He’s strong, both mentally and physically. I like that I don't have to hold back when we fight, that we can just fight and I can be myself when we do it …” He laughed softly to himself to find Luffy grinning at him widely. “What?”

“You’re in love with Sanji.”

“WHAT?!” 

Zoro’s voice did not just crack. It didn’t because Roronoa Zoro’s voice never cracked. Ever. Even through puberty, it never happened. Nope. Not once.

“Your voice just cracked!”

“It did not!”

“It did it again!”

Zoro grit his teeth and tried to breathe calmly. In love with Sanji? What the fuck was Luffy talking about? “What the fuck do you mean ‘you’re in love with Sanji’?”

“Oh, I’m not,” Luffy said. “You are, but not me.”

“That’s what I meant!”

“But you just said ‘you’re’, as in me.”

“No, I said ‘you’re’ as in I was quoting you, which meant me!”

Luffy blinked. “What were we talking about?”

“How did you come up with that insane conclusion? Love? What the fuck do you know about love?”

“I’m in love with my girlfriend, remember?” Luffy told him. He shook his head. “Okay, fine, maybe I exaggerated,—”

“Damn right you exaggerated, I’m not in love with Sanji!”

“—it’s not that you’re in love with Sanji, it’s that you’re _falling_ in love with him,” Luffy corrected himself. “That better?”

“That better?” Zoro repeated. “No, it’s not fucking better! Who the fuck do you think you are, saying I’m falling in love with that idiot cook?”

“I’m Luffy and you’re Zoro. You’re really bad at remembering things, aren’t you?”

“I …” Zoro couldn’t find words. He wanted to strangle the kid. He probably could. All he had to do was reach out and then his fingers could curl around that delicate windpipe and—

“Nami, the ten minutes are up!”

Nami came back into the room, dragging Usopp. She took one look at Zoro and sighed exasperatedly. “Luffy, what did you do?”

“I just talked to him,” Luffy shrugged. “I don’t know why he threw a fit.”

“What did you tell him then?” 

Luffy rubbed his head and seemed to be thinking, as though he didn’t remember the giant bomb of lies he had dumped on Zoro a few seconds previous. “Um, that I loved you?” He paused. “Oh yeah! And that he loved Sanji.”

“You do?” 

“No, the liar’s coming up with lies!” Zoro declared. “Usopp, watch out, his lies are becoming more outrageous than yours!”

“What are you talking about?” Usopp demanded. “I don’t tell lies, I just tell slightly altered stories that people assume are lies! I really do have a friend from France who’s claiming to be your long lost brother Zoro. Jean-Pierre is still waiting to hear from you!”

“Yeah, fucking right,” Zoro mumbled. Grabbing his jacket from the couch, he threw it on. “I’m leaving, I need to buy Sanji his cigarettes.”

“You hate the smell of nicotine,” Usopp reminded him. “Why are you buying him more?”

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Nami and Luffy gave him matching knowing looks.

“You can shut it,” he told them. “I don’t care if you didn’t technically open your fucking mouths, I’m still fucking pissed at you! This means absolutely nothing, there’s no deeper meaning in it, whatsoever!”

“Denial’s a horrible thing Zoro,” said Nami with a pitiful sigh. “I hear it leads to stress and you know large amounts of stress cause a shorter life-span.”

Zoro slammed the door in response.

* * *

“They’re un-fucking-believable,” Zoro muttered to himself as he entered the twenty-four hour store, searching for the aisle with Sanji’s brand of cigarettes.

_“You’re in love with Sanji.”_

Zoro shook his head. It couldn’t be true. Sanji was … well Sanji was _Sanji_! He was a man and he was a cook and he was … he was beautiful when he fought. He owned the kitchen like it was his battlefield, he walked with grace. You had to earn the right to hear his real laugh, you had to try hard to get him to smile genuinely. But God was it worth it when he rewarded you for your efforts. 

He was … he was a beautiful disaster. 

Those were the only words Zoro could think of that could possibly describe Sanji. Short, simple and yet so complicated at the same time.

Finding them, Zoro went over to the cash and handed them over.

“Someone’s having a nice day, am I right?” the cashier smiled, bagging the cigarettes.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling.”

Was he?

Zoro took his bag and left, ignoring the man’s calls to come back and enjoy the rest of his night.

Smiling for no reason, like an idiot. Did that mean … did that mean Zoro really _did_ love Sanji? 

Zoro knew he liked Sanji’s smile. It was lopsided and just a little shy, kind of adorable really. He liked it when Sanji laughed and watching the determination in his eyes when he fought warmed him inside. Sanji still looked just a bit sheepish whenever he won a bar fight, he liked when Sanji made his favourite meal without thinking about it. He liked when Sanji came to him on the rare occasion that a nightmare came back, he liked the way Sanji would occasionally play with his hair. He liked when he could force Sanji out of his shell, he had liked the feel of Sanji’s lips on his—

But that didn’t mean he loved him.

There were tons of things Zoro didn’t like about Sanji too though. It wasn’t like the blond was a saint.

A taxi pulled up and Zoro got in.

Sanji left cigarette butts everywhere, and he still used cold water in the shower. He filled the DVR with stupid anime all the time, and he left toothpaste in the sink. But while those things bugged him, they weren’t really parts of Sanji he hated. He had come to like the little quirks of the blond cook, and he may even dare say he found them endearing. 

_Holy fuck, I might just be falling in love with Sanji!_

Now what the fuck was he supposed to do?

Tell him?

Sanji wasn’t a harsh, cruel person. Even if Zoro _was_ falling in love with him, Sanji wouldn’t hold it over him, would he? Besides, when Zoro had kissed him, the blond hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t really done anything, but Zoro chose not to dwell on that.

When he reached the apartment, he entered to see Sanji standing in front of the giant window, his back to him. 

Zoro eyed him.

_Is he shaking?_

The blond flinched when he heard Zoro close the door.

“I’m back,” Zoro announced. “Got the cigarettes.”

Sanji didn’t give any indication that he had heard him.

“You alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“M’fine.”

He didn’t sound fine.

“Do you want me to get you something? Turn on a light?”

“I said _I’m fine_.”

Zoro nodded. “I’ll just leave them over here, alright?”

There was no answer.

What was Zoro thinking?

Sanji was a victim of abuse, amongst many other things. The swordsman didn’t know exactly what the cooks had done to him, but he was clearly traumatized. He was in no state to even consider getting into a relationship with anyone.

Zoro felt as though he had been plunged into an ice bath. They were so far apart and yet so close. 

Going to his room, Zoro laid down in bed and put his arms behind his head, falling into an uneasy sleep.

  
_Zoro pushed himself against him harder, feeling his lean body underneath his own. He gasped as he felt those skilled hands run down his chest, leaving him breathless. His hands reached out, grasping for something,_ ** _anything_** _to hold onto, running themselves through his silky looking hair. He didn’t dare open his eyes, scared everything would disappear._

_Sanji pulled him closer, clutching his hips, making their bare chests touch and the feeling of skin on skin had never felt so good. Zoro let Sanji push him up against the wall and moaned as Sanji left a trail of kisses down his neck before rising back up to his mouth, claiming it with his own. He teased, swiping his tongue across Zoro’s lips but pulled back when Zoro tried to get closer._

_“Sanji,” he gasped breathlessly. “Fuck, don’t tease me.”_

_“Forgotten about me already, Zoro?”_

_Zoro’s eyes snapped open and met_ **_Her_ ** _eyes._

_“I … I could never, you know that. I …” He searched for words, desperately trying to come up with something he could say to explain himself. She was exactly as he remembered Her, so beautiful, so strong. He reached out for Her, but She turned away from his touch._

_“Explain **him** then.”_

_“Him?”_

_“The blond.”_

_“He …”_

_“Are abandoning me, Zoro?” She asked. Her eyes were glassy, vacant and hollow. “I thought you loved me.”_

_“I did, I_ **_do_ ** _, fuck, you know I do, it’s just—”_

_“It’s just what?” She demanded. She looked him up and down and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You’re pathetic. Do you really think he’d go for you? You know he’s a ladies’ man, never mind the fact that he’s totally out of your league. You like the broken ones, don’t you?”_

_“You’re not broken, you weren’t—”_

_“Then why couldn’t you fix me?” She screamed, tears falling from Her eyes. Zoro felt his own eyes watering, just seeing Her. “Why couldn't you save me?”_

_“I tried … I tried, you know I tried!”_

_“Trying isn’t good enough.”_

  
When Zoro woke up, he fought back tears. He thought he could hear the faint sound of whimpering, but didn’t dare think about it too much for fear it was his own voice. He put his fist in his mouth, trying to hold back any sobs, cutting into the skin of his knuckles until he tasted his blood on the tip of his tongue. 

Sanji was right.

Love _did_ hurt.

_A lot._


	16. Hello Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Referenced past abuse/sexual assault/rape  
> Physical abuse  
> Verbal abuse  
> Self-harm  
> Suicide attempt (basically?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. I uh, wrote this before the "Hello Darkness" meme, so yeah ... Sorry, it IS a sad chapter, cause angst, love my angst. But it's basically chapter 15, by Sanji's POV.

Sanji was going to puke.

If the world would stop spinning for a moment, he might be able to gather his thoughts and remember last night’s events.

Sanji picked himself off the floor and raced to the bathroom. He felt as though his dinner was fighting its way back up his throat, trying to force itself out as he leaned over the toilet bowl. He opened his mouth, waiting for his stomach to empty its contents, but there was nothing but dry heaving. 

It had been a while since Sanji had thrown up, and when the floodgates opened, his mouth tasted disgusting as his contents began to land into the bowl.

The smell was worse, mixed in with his morning breath, he was surprised he hadn’t passed out from the stench of his own vomit.

“Sanji?”

“I hate you.”

"You know, this is your fault.”

“Don’t remind me.” Sanji took a few deep breaths, unable to pull his eyes away from the disgusting contents of the toilet bowl. Fuck, he hated alcohol.

“How’s your stomach? Do your sides hurt?”

“Are you a doctor now?” Sanji lurched forward, his stomach convulsing, but nothing was coming out again. Life was terrible. He laughed cynically to himself.

He was pretty sure Zoro said something about getting him something for his headache, but he was more focused on trying to make the room stand still.

He remembered once he had tried to make himself puke. Only once and it had been awful. Sticking his finger down his throat and praying the meal would come back up. It was during that time when he was thirteen and the cooks had started to call him fat. The acidic feeling in his mouth hadn’t been pleasant and when it was over, he felt horrible about wasting precious food Zeff had made. He never did it again.

Zoro was back sooner than Sanji expected and handed him a glass of water and a pill. “Before you take them, do you think you’re going to puke again?”

“Why does that matter?”  Sanji grabbed them out of Zoro’s hands. If it would stop the pounding headache that made him feel like someone was persistently smacking a hammer at his head, he didn’t care. 

“It takes a few minutes for them to kick in, but if you hurl them out before they take affect, they’re pointless. It’s counter-productive.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Just let me take them, bastard.” He tossed his head back and swallowed, before drinking the water to get rid of the scratchy feeling in his throat.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Where did he get off, feeling all high and mighty about that? Sanji got to his feet, pausing for a moment to get his bearings.

“Anyway, what do you remember?”

 _Give me a fucking minute, I’m trying to find my centre of gravity!_ Sanji blinked a few times once he was sure he was balanced.  “Um … well, green is your natural colour. Course, you don’t explain why at all or anything,” he added with a frown. “What kind of screwed up genes do you have?”

“What kind of screwed up genes do _you_ have, Cook?”

Ignoring him, Sanji tried to pick up what was left of his dignity and went to the kitchen. “Hungry, Marimo?”

“You wish, cook.”

Sanji could hear Zoro’s stomach growl from the kitchen.

“How’s bacon and eggs?”

“Fine with me.”

* * *

Breakfast was silent, but while Sanji sat across the table from Zoro, it dawned on him that in three days, it would officially be two months since he had been staying at Zoro’s. 

_The cooks are probably splitting my money amongst themselves._

As the hours wore on, Sanji became more and more curious about it. What _was_ going on at the Baratie nowadays? Searching through his blazer, he pulled out his packet, in need of a smoke. When he realized he was drawing up thin air, an idea came to mind. 

“I’m out of cigarettes,” Sanji called to the swordsman. Knowing his horrible sense of direction, Sanji could easily slip out of the apartment for a while during the time that Zoro was out searching for the drug store. “Could you buy me a pack?”

“King Ground, right?”

“Yeah,” Sanji replied, surprised that Zoro remembered.

After the green-haired man left, Sanji cleaned up the kitchen and made his way to the Baratie.

* * *

Though it had been a while, the atmosphere still felt the same when Sanji entered. The customers were still under the impression the Baratie ran like a well-oiled machine.

He looked around for familiar faces and found Moodie. She was sitting with Fullbody, as usual, but her usual facade had slipped. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was miserable.

Walking over to her, he bent down on one knee next to her chair. “ _A rose by any other name would smell as sweet._ ”

“Sanji!”

_Ah, there’s that beautiful smile._

The blonde turned to Fullbody. “Would you mind if I spoke to my friend?”

Fullbody’s mouth drew into a thin line, but he nodded curtly. 

Moodie and Sanji went to a corner of the room where there was little activity. 

How could he have forgotten about his obligations to the Baratie? After a few weeks with Zoro, the swordsman had Sanji thinking of the Baratie as a burden he was better without, but one look at Moodie and his stomach dropped out from under him, remembering his obligation to her.

“It’s been a long time, Sanji,” Moodie said. Her eyes held more sadness than usual. “Where have you been?”

“That’s not important,” Sanji assured her. “I’ve been well. I wish I could say the same to you.”

“It’s nothing, really.” A knife dug into Sanji’s gut at her fake smile.

“Don’t give me that,” Sanji said. “A lady with your grace should never be in such a forced relationship. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“You’re young Sanji, aren’t you?”

“You’re not so old yourself.”

“According to my father, I’m too old to be unmarried.”

Sanji’s eyes widened. Unmarried? Did that mean …?

“Moodie, look me in the eyes,” he told her gently.

The blonde reluctantly turned to him.

Sanji took her chin in his hand and carefully brought her gaze up to his. “Are you happy with Fullbody?”

Moodie tried to pull away, but he held fast. “Sanji …”

“Are you happy with Fullbody?”

“…No.”

“Okay then.” Sanji let go of her. “Then I’m going to tell you this. You are a strong and independent woman. You were gifted with an unimaginable amount of beauty, and you’re smart as well. You are _not_ going to settle for a bastard like Fullbody, I won’t allow it. Arranged marriages can go to hell for all I care, but you are _not_ settling. A woman like yourself should _never_ settle.”

Moodie stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Tears beginning to well in her eyes. “Sanji …”

“You are going to speak to your father, you hear me? You’re going to tell him what’s happening, because I swear on my parents graves, you are _not_ marrying him. Not while I’m alive.”

Moodie gave him a bittersweet smile. “I wish it were that easy.”

“It _is_ that easy,” Sanji insisted. “Moodie, if you want something, if you don’t like the way things are, then you change them. You change them until things _are_ the way you want them to be because no one, especially not you, has to settle for something as disgusting as that man over there.”

“Oh Sanji …” Moodie stared into his eyes, leaning slightly closer to him. “If you were only a few years older, or perhaps I were a few years younger …”

Sanji’s eyes widened. “Moodie …”

“I wish I had the same idealism as you Sanji,” Moodie said, turning her head away. “But for adults, the world is very different than you think. You’ve only started to enter this world, you can’t possibly understand—”

“Bullshit!” Moodie stared at him, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “Pardon me for my language, that’s complete _bullshit._ ”

“I—”

“I may be young, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’ve seen things. I _know_ things. Life is not fair. The world was not created with equality in mind, which is why if you ever want something, really want it, then you have to go for it. No one is ever going to hand you anything, there is always going to be a fight.”

“But how?” Moodie asked. “ _How_ do you fight? How do you even get a chance?”

“You don’t. You _make_ one.”

“You seem … different,” said Moodie, a look of awe in her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Just … different. Lighter.”

“But this isn’t about me,” Sanji said. “I can’t force you to do anything, but I know you’ll do whatever you think is right when it comes down to it.” He checked his watch. “I have to get going, but I’ll visit some time later, okay?”

Moodie nodded, her eyes full of a silent surrender. It was heartbreaking.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sanji was about to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn’t the callused hand he was used to touching him. This one was rougher, larger. 

Zoro’s friends had learnt quickly that Sanji had personal space issues, and respected them. On the occasion they forgot, they’d let go the instant they remembered. Everyone accepted that Sanji was only comfortable with minimal contact with Zoro.

He counted.

_2.97, .98, .99, 3.00 …_

They still didn’t let go. In fact, their grip tightened. 

“So it is you, eh, Sanji?”

_No._

“Patty, let me go,” Sanji said, praying his voice was steady.

Patty’s breath tickled his neck, his terrible breath reaching his nose. “And if I don’t?”

“I _said_ let me go.”

“Beg for it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, you’ve gotten feisty!” Patty chuckled. Sanji hated it. “Where’s Roronoa? Did he let you off your leash?”

Sanji jolted his shoulder, trying to get out of Patty’s grasp, but Patty held him forcefully in place.

Sanji could keep his cool. He could. Zoro had taught him how to meditate. 

_Happy thoughts._

Late nights in the kitchen with Zoro, fighting at Partys, grocery shopping with the Marimo, eating out with Zoro’s friends, listening to Usopp’s stories. Watching Zoro fight, learning a new recipe, Zoro’s kendo match, being called “Big Bro Sanji”. Zoro’s hair in the morning—

“Are you ignoring me? Fucking bitch, open your eyes! Get that smile off your face!”

_SMACK!_

Sanji jolted forward at the unexpected hit that came to his ass. 

Pain.

_“Oh look! The slut’s crying!”_

Numbness.

Patty bent down on one knee, getting up in his face. “Look at me when I’m fucking talk to you.”

There was blood in his mouth, his knees felt weak, his head was hurting, his vision was blurry, he couldn’t support himself, he weighed too much to stand, he couldn’t … he couldn’t …

_“You kick fucking hard, bastard.”_

The blond’s knee connected with Patty’s nose with a resounding crack. He steadied himself up on his feet again, trying to gather as much of his dignity as he could. Fuck, if he even had any left.

Patty didn’t like that.

He grabbed Sanji by the front of his shirt, and spat in his face. “Where’s your Sugar Daddy? Eh? Did he teach you that trick?”

Sanji kicked at Patty’s waist, hitting him in the stomach, but the man barely wavered. The element of surprise was gone. “Don’t think you’re above us, Shit Cook,” he snarled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“What did you say?” 

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought. Get your ass back in the kitchen, whore!”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Moodie, staring at him with sadness in her eyes. She was trembling. The moment their gazes met, she looked away. It was about time Sanji took his own advice.

“I quit.”

Zoro had battle scars, Sanji had mistakes etched into his skin, a lesson coming with each one. He wasn’t going to add more. He had to believe he was stronger than that.

“What’d you say?”

“I said I quit,” Sanji repeated. He turned on his heel to leave when he was grabbed by his collar and forced back. He felt like choking but he bit his lip fiercely, trapping in all sounds. His lip was probably bleeding now.

“You think you’re in a position to deny me?” Patty shook his head. “What would Zeff think, eh, Shit Cook?”

Zeff was … Zeff was the father Sanji didn’t have. Zeff was the person who forced Sanji onto his knees, holding him down until Sanji finally learnt to play dirty and cheat his way out. Zeff was the person who gave Sanji a home, the one who helped him escape from that _hell,_ and he didn’t do it for Sanji to throw it all away.

Maybe Zeff would be disappointed.

 _“I didn’t bring you up to be a coward, Sanji!”_ He could hear the moustached man lecturing him. _“I didn’t teach you to run with your tail between your legs! What kind of a man are you if you can’t fight? Where did I go wrong with you?”_

Sanji shook his head. No, that wasn't right. After all he had endured, he knew exactly what Zeff would say.

_“It’s about time you got out. It’s about time you stopped being a coward and realized that there is a way out, there is a path. Are you just going to let it be hidden in the trees again? You’re a coward if you don’t go for it.”_

“Zeff would be proud.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Zeff would be proud,” Sanji repeated. “That I’m finally doing something!” He gave a harsh kick and Patty was forced away from him, onto the ground. “I’m not your toy. I don’t bend to you anymore, I don’t bend for _anyone_.”

“Bet you bend for Roronoa,” Patty leered.

“You talk shit about Zoro one more time, and I’ll fucking destroy you,” Sanji promised. “And he has nothing to do with this, you hear me?”

Patty sat up from the floor chuckled. “Poor, innocent Sanji.”

_Don’t do it. He’s baiting you._

“Here you are, defending that idiot swordsman, like he actually cares about you! What a joke!”

_He’s trying to get in your head. Don’t fall for it._

“He’s got you fooled, doesn’t he? Then again, you were always naive. Seeing the best in people. Wake up kid, that’s not the way the world works! No one does something for nothing, they always want payment. You’ve come down with a case of Stockholm, haven’t you?”

“Shut up!”

“Sanji’s a little faggot for his captor, ain’t he? A captor who probably doesn’t give a shit about him.”

He didn’t know Zoro, he didn’t know anything about Zoro and Sanji. Nothing he said was true, he was feeding him lies to try and get him to doubt himself, he knew it, he _knew_ it and yet …

“You’re his little charity case. Isn’t it obvious? Once he’s done his hours and given back to the community, you’ll be gone. If Roronoa’s your friend, where is he now? Why isn’t he here, helping a friend in need?”

“Shut up!” Sanji screamed. “Zoro isn’t … it isn’t like that! He’s not like that!”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, faggot,” Patty snarled. “You know that, don’t you?” he barked. “Admit it. No one wants you. No one needs you, so why don’t get your slutty little ass back in the kitchen and put on an apron and be a good whore?”

He hated Patty, he hated Patty for putting those ideas into his head, he hated himself for thinking that maybe, maybe it was true. 

He wanted to crawl up and die. He wanted to so badly, so, _so_ badly. But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned and ran.

* * *

Sanji moved on autopilot up the stairs of Zoro’s apartment, slamming the door shut behind him before he grabbed the knife and bled.

Watching the blood trickling down the side of his pale arm, he felt relief. It was so good, so cool against his skin, so familiar, like an old friend. He cried, feeling relief with each prick of pain.

He needed this. He was weak and he needed this. He didn’t know how to function without it, and it was sick and it was _wrong_ and he knew it but he couldn’t stop because his hand didn’t even shake when it came down on his flesh again. 

His vision blurred with his tears, but he couldn’t stop, he just _couldn’t_ and so he bled.

Bled because he wasn’t as strong as Zeff thought he was, for being a disappointment to his old man, the one he wanted to please, so, so much.

Bled for the nightmares to go away, for the shadows to go back to just being shadows, for branches against the windowpane to be branches and not hands, reaching for his throat, for the image of that night to stop being the only thing he saw whenever he closed his eyes.

Bled for being the “charity case”, for being so pitiful, for being so pathetic.

He bled for Moodie and her terrible relationship with Fullbody, for his lack of ability to take his own words to heart, for forcing her to see him like that, for making her seen the ugly truth about him.

Bled for his selfishness, that he needed this, that he indulged in something he knew was terrible, for his thoughtlessness.

The tears kept falling and he just cried, unable to tell the difference between the blood on his skin and the tears on his cheeks.

When he had cried himself dry, he couldn’t move. The energy had been torn from him, the knife fell from his hand limply, he was dizzy, from the tears or from the blood loss, he didn’t know. He felt like he was close, close to the edge, right there, teasing him, if he just let himself fall … 

But he couldn’t. Because he was too scared, too selfish to ever take that leap.

He knew he couldn’t face Zoro. Not like this.

Because as much as it hurt, to know that he was nothing but community service, nothing but a good deed Zoro was doing for the world, that didn’t stop him from thinking about the sound of Zoro’s laugh, or the way the man’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way he moved when he fought, with the grace and the passion and that fire in him. He couldn’t make himself forget the way Zoro had looked after him, made sure he was ready before touching him, the way Zoro respected him, the way Zoro didn’t treat him delicately, didn’t treat him like glass, but like a _human being_ , even when he didn’t deserve it.

Despite knowing all that, Sanji had hoped it was more. It made sense that he was nothing to Zoro, but God, he had hoped, he ha wanted it to mean something, something _more_.

He dozed off, like his body was telling himself he had expended enough of his energy being miserable, it was time to shut down and when he woke up, he was surrounded by his own dried blood.

There was _so much blood,_ Sanji’s vision was stained red.

He couldn’t let Zoro see this. He had to hurry, had to make it quick, had to make sure the swordsman never saw this side of him. He didn’t know just how screwed up Sanji was, and he never intended on letting him find out. 

Sanji wanted to laugh. He was a screwed up Cinderella, but there was no fairy godmother, no prince charming. The only thing that remained was the glass slipper, coated in the blood of those who had tried to fit into it and failed.

Sanji was that shoe. Any beauty it had once contained had been tarnished by the blood, making it a disgusting accessory that, being made out of glass, would cut anyone who came too close, and yet when he was with Zoro, it felt like it didn’t matter. He was still dirty, he was still ruined, but Zoro made it seem like it didn’t matter, it didn’t mean shit that Sanji was a complete mess, and probably always would be, because Zoro accepted him the way that he was.

Or at least, Sanji _thought_ he did.

When the floor was clean, Sanji caught sight of himself in the kitchen sink.

He felt woozy from the blood loss and tears, but the bleeding had stopped. He was pale, his face looked shallow, his eyes lifeless.

He was a train wreck. 

He couldn’t face Zoro. Not like this. Maybe not ever.

* * *

He was staring out the window when he heard the door open. He leaned against it, trying not to cry. He had already cried, he was as dried up as the Sahara desert. He couldn’t possibly shed another tear, and yet he still felt them slip out, his body shaking at the bitter taste of the tears as they rolled past his lips. Licking his lips, he wished he could stop them but he knew better.

“I’m back.” 

_Where have you been? It’s so late! I was … I was worried._

But Sanji didn’t dare say these words. After all, if he was a charity case, why should he worry about Zoro? He didn’t mention the time and instead focused on not shaking too much.

“Got the cigarettes.”

Each word Zoro said dug into him like a knife. He sounded so caring, … affectionate, almost. But Sanji couldn’t forget. _It’s easy to pretend._ It wasn't hard to fake a worried expression. It wasn't hard to pretend that you cared. It wasn't hard to fake a sympathetic glance. It wasn't fucking hard to pretend like someone actually _mattered_. 

“You alright?” 

“M’fine.”

“Do you want me to get you something? Turn on a light?”

“I said _I’m fine_.”

Sanji didn’t trust himself to say much more without his voice cracking, so he stayed quiet.

“I’ll just leave them over here, alright?”

Sanji didn’t turn around until he heard Zoro’s bedroom door close.

He took the cigarettes from the couch. King Ground.

Why would Zoro remember such a pointless thing about him?

Sanji lit the cigarette, wishing his problems, just like the smoke, would all fly away and vaporize into nothing.

* * *

It was the first night Sanji didn’t come to Zoro to save him from a nightmare.

Instead, the blond let the darkness swallow him, suffocate him. Suffering at the hands of the bastard cooks and the cold, merciless Zoro in his mind was better than thinking the real one cared.

It was dangerous to trust.

To trust that someone cared, to believe in them with everything you had. It was dangerous but he wanted it still, he wanted to believe it because when he was around Zoro, he felt it. He felt what he imagined it would feel like if someone cared. 

If someone loved you.


	17. Sulking Like A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Blood (lots of blood?), allusions to self-harm, destructive behaviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own One Piece. Up for fighting chapters?

It is a truth universally acknowledged that three-sword-style swordsmen with green hair do not sulk.

At least, that’s what Roronoa Zoro tried to convince himself of. 

He wasn’t going to Partys with all of his swords, out for blood because he was sulking over his somewhat existent, not entirely well-founded feelings for Sanji. In fact, the cook didn’t mean anything to him beyond friendship. He hadn’t had a horrible nightmare that lead towards him curling up into a little ball and trying not to blubber like a baby. Nope. Not at all.

A little known fact about Roronoa Zoro: he was the master of denial. 

“Hey Makino,” Zoro greeted the barmaid with a forced smile. He didn’t know how Sanji did it all the time— _no, do not think about Sanji, bad brain, bad!_

“Afternoon Zoro,” replied the young woman. “You’ll be fighting tonight?”

Zoro nodded. “Are there any good people?” 

“Well, we have a few, probably flies in comparison to you.”

Zoro frowned. He needed a good opponent, someone to get his mind off a certain blond cook.

Makino’s smile wavered, seeing the look on his face. “Zoro, what are you doing?”

“Just going to fight a little, I haven’t done it in a while. Is it wrong?”

Makino stared at him scrutinizingly. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?” Zoro let out a laugh. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’m fine. You sure _you’re_ okay?”

“Being reckless doesn’t pay,” Makino told him strictly. “You know that.” Her eyes wandered towards Zoro’s chest, as though to trace the length of the scar with her eyes, despite the fact that it wasn’t visible. It burned underneath his skin.

Zoro knew. He knew probably more than anyone, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Besides, he wasn’t being reckless. He was just taking his mind off things. Since taking in the cook, it seemed he was almost all Zoro thought about. Training Sanji, helping Sanji, cooking with Sanji, waking Sanji up from another nightmare, introducing Sanji to others, worrying about Sanji … kissing Sanji (once and only once. Zoro would only ever make that mistake once).

“Can I go down?”

Makino nodded, watching Zoro with worried eyes but the swordsman didn’t look back as he descended the stairs.

“Yo, Big Bro Zoro!” greeted Johnny with a big smile. “You finally going to fight tonight?”

“Yeah, we’ve been waiting for a match since _forever_ ,” Yosaku said, giving Zoro a big clap on the back. “Is Big Bro Sanji coming?”

“No," snapped the swordsman.

“Just a question,” Yosaku said, holding up his hands in mock-defence. “You okay, Big Bro?”

“I’m fine,” Zoro snapped. Hearing Sanji’s name did weird things to him and he just wanted to forget about him. “You gonna let me in?”

Johnny and Yosaku glanced at each other turning to Zoro. 

“If you say so, Big Bro.”

Zoro entered the arena and looked around. There were a lot of people who weren’t worth fighting. He didn’t see any of his other friends around either. That was good, that meant he didn’t have to be lectured by them about how irrational he was being. Luffy would look at him with that stare he always got whenever he realized something wasn’t right because of course the straw hat had to become perceptive at the worst times possible and Nami would probably press for answers while Usopp told him yet another story about that strange person he knew who was going through problems exactly like his, except it would somehow involve a walrus. He loved his friends, he really did, but he couldn’t handle them some days.

The only person he couldn’t escape when at Partys was Ace, and that was because he was always the ref for the matches. Ace was cool, Zoro was sure he could trust him to keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Ace,” he said, approaching the tall man. “You got any recommendations about who's worth my time?"

“Zoro!” Ace smiled widely. “Finally going to get back in the ring?”

“Figured it was about time,” Zoro told him with a shrug. “So, who do you have for me?”

“Well, you could try Bones,” said Ace. “They say he’s one of the best.”

“Never heard of him. Who is he?”

Ace pointed towards the corner and Zoro was surprised he hadn’t seen the guy earlier. He was enormous. Bigger than Patty— no, thinking about Patty meant thinking about Sanji, thinking about Sanji meant … fuck, Zoro didn’t even know anymore. “How does he fight?”

“Martial artist,” Ace said. “He’s really tough, some even say his skin’s made of steel.”

“I’ll fight him.”

Ace nodded and blew his whistle, making the match official. Zoro ignored the applauding crowd, zeroing in on his opponent. 

He was large, but the larger they were, the harder they fell. He stepped into the arena and put Wado in his mouth as usual, taking his other swords out and readying his stance.

Bones smirked when he entered the ring. “You think you can beat me, little shrimp?”  He let out a loud laugh. “Haven’t seen someone fight with Santoryu in a while.” The man cracked his knuckles menacingly, growling as he took a step closer to Zoro. “Three swords won’t be enough to save you, moss-head.”

Zoro grit his teeth, Wado firmly placed in his mouth. He was ready to fight. He _wanted_ to fight. And he wanted to make Bones bleed. Just a little.

“Okay, you know the rules,” Ace said, standing on top of his usual table. “You fight until one of you can’t go on, determined by the crowd. There's no time limit, try to keep the fight inside the ring. We’re not aiming to kill, but other than that, no rules apply. When I blow my whistle, we start.”

Zoro could vaguely hear the crowd counting down, but the only sound that reached his ears was the loud “FIGHT!” screamed in unison by the entire bar.

And fight Zoro did.

No one knew who delivered the first blow as both competitors moved simultaneously. Zoro went to attack with two swords right at Bones’ chest, but Bones had a strike ready for Zoro, going for his gut. They both took the force of the impact. Zoro’s balance wavered, forcing him to take a few steps back, whereas Bones stood firm.

“No swordsman’s ever cut me,” said Bones. “What makes you think you can?”

“Guess I’ll be the first.”

The man was big, he could give him that. And so what if he was buff? He had a weakness, everyone did. 

The big man let out a laugh that sounded beyond sinister. “We’ll see about that.”

_Where? Where do I focus?_

_CRASH!_

Too late. 

Zoro’s guard had been down, and he was thrown out of the ring, into a startled couple’s table. He picked himself up and wiped his face, the beer soaking his clothes.

“I’ll give you that you’re still standing," Bones sneered, “most people would be knocked out by a blow like that, but this just means you’ll suffer more.” 

Bones moved so quickly, Zoro didn’t have time to register until he was slung over the man’s shoulder, his swords discarded.

“You call yourself a swordsman?” 

Zoro kicked at Bones harshly, but the man didn’t move.

“Listen to me moss-head, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back out now.”

Surrender? The word wasn't even in Zoro’s vocabulary.

Zoro pushed at Bones’ body, trying to wiggle his way out of the bigger man’s grip. His big meaty hands just reminded him of Patty even more and that made him think of Sanji and thinking of Sanji and Patty made him even angrier, knowing what that bastard had done to his cook.

_SMACK!_

A nicely aimed punch hit Bones squarely in the nose. The man blinked, surprised, his grip loosening. Zoro hit the floor and grabbed Wado, ready to fight again.

“That was nothing,” Zoro told him. “You gonna fight me for real this time?”

Bones turned on him. 

_Watch him._

Bones placed himself in the corner of the ring, as far from Zoro as possible.

_Read him._

Bones started running. He watched the way he raised his arm, his shoulder going straight. He’d be punching Zoro. Where exactly would he punch him?

_Predict._

His elbow was aimed downwards. Knowing the kind of fighter he seemed to be, he wouldn’t be playing cheap tricks like he and Sanji did, grabbing at ankles. No, the man would go straight for Zoro’s gut.

_Calculate._

How long would it take him to get to him? What did he have to do to avoid it? If he moved right now, Bones could still change his direction and Zoro would have to start all over.

_Stay._

Bones came closer, his fist raised … The shoulder was going downwards, his elbow was also going down, which meant …

_Now!_

Zoro jumped up and flipped over Bones, missing an underhanded punch towards his stomach. His blades brushed across the man’s shoulders as he flipped, before he landed on the other side of him, in the ring.

_Okay, this makes him even easier to read than Sa— easier to read than others. Now where’s his weak point?_

“Impressive, ballerina,” said Bones though he was clearly being sarcastic.

_Watch. Don’t close your eyes._

He turned back around and raised his fist again. 

Shoulder's facing upward, elbow’s facing up. Going for the face then.

Zoro leaned back and avoided the hit but he watched Bones even after the attack had been administered. He was slightly off balance.

_The force he uses … if it doesn't hit anything, the amount of  momentum he has is suddenly stopped, which means …_

Zoro watched once more. Bones was going for his neck. He flipped over him again, before instead of attacking with his swords, he pushed on Bones’ back as he flipped over. Bones fell forward at the sudden imbalance and crashed into another couple’s table. 

Was this like seeing a wrestling match? Was that the kind of date that poor brunette was being subjected to? He felt bad for her.

Zoro counted in his head once his feet touched the ground.

_0.28, .29, .30, .31, .32, .33—_

Bones was back on his feet. 

"Enough with the acrobatics,” Bones snarled. “Time to end this!”

_Shoulder's going south, elbow’s north. Right. Meet him … now!_

Zoro protected his lower body with his crossed swords. Bones’ fist tried to push against the blades, but Zoro held strong. He had to admit that Bones had muscle, it was taking an effort not to skid backwards but he figured he had ruined enough dates tonight. Using his third sword, he nodded his head forward, slashing at Bones’ wrist.

As the smallest droplet of crimson hit the floor, Zoro smirked. 

_Victory._

Bones staggered back and judging from his expression, he hadn’t truly believed Zoro would be able to cut him. 

_You’re going down._

Bones took a step forward and went at Zoro again.

Shoulder’s north, elbow’s north. 

Zoro moved quickly around the man as his fist came out and struck him in the back using two of his blades. Bones wobbled but quickly regained his balance. He was learning how to recover faster. That was new. He spun around, kicking at Zoro.

Reading upper body movements was harder for Zoro, but from the waist down? Well, he had this one in the bag.

Zoro charged forwards as the foot swept over where Zoro had been and instead, he hit Bones squarely in the chest. He fell onto his back from the force and Zoro got on top of him, ready to throw a punch.

Unfortunately, he was right where Bones wanted him.

Bones punched Zoro in the jaw and his head shot back. He could feel his brain moving around in his head as the man took another punch at him. Since Zoro’s legs were firmly around the man, he couldn’t move when the man aimed another punch and his nose started bleeding. 

_Dammit, I think he broke it!_

He tried to time Bones’ hits, to catch his arm before it connected with his face again, but there was no rhyme or reason to his attacks. He at every opportunity and Zoro couldn’t focus.

In short, his face had seen better days.

Instead of waiting for timing, Zoro decided to screw strategies and instead just hit at the man before him as well. He found some pride in the fact that now the man was trying to dodge his attacks. Dodging. How come Zoro had never thought of that? It probably had something to do with a certain person whom he never dared to think of at the moment.

Zoro managed to hit Bones nicely in the jaw. Bones took a moment to readjust, and Zoro took that time to grab his big, meaty arm and flip it over him.

This resulted in successfully getting the man off of him, but as Zoro was stuck on the man’s legs, his ground was wiped out from under him and he fell rather harshly on the wood floor. 

He stood up quickly and prepared to hit again, his swords back in hand. He launched himself at the fallen Bones and began to strike at his chest various times, starting to tear through the man’s shirt. With a few bruises, bleeding in a few places and one finally knock out punch from Zoro, he was declared the winner.

“Hey, Zoro,” said Ace when it was over, whispering in his ear as he raised Zoro’s arm in victory. “Something up?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure? Cause that didn’t look like nothing.”

“Yeah well, just cause you think something’s there, doesn’t mean it is,” Zoro snapped at him. “Anyone else I can fight?”

“You’re pretty worn out from that fight with Bones,” Ace said, “You sure you don’t want to rest?”

“No.” Resting meant he’d think. Thinking meant he’d eventually have the blond cook on his mind again. He’d probably end up having a mental break down, wondering what the cook thought of him and whether or not it was worth it to say anything about the strange feeling in his chest. 

“I’ll fight him.”

Everyone turned to see a man who carried a large sword on his back.

“Mihawk?”

“I’ll fight you, Roronoa Zoro,” said Mihawk. “That is, if you think you can beat me.”

Mihawk … God Mihawk annoyed him to no ends. The last time he had fought against him had not ended well and knowing that, he was certain that taking him up on the challenge was pure suicide. 

Dracule Mihawk was the greatest swordsman in Japan. He was undefeated and had won over a thousand competitions, including several against Zoro. He hated losing to this man, arrogant and conceited. The title of best swordsman … a man that self-absorbed surely didn’t deserve it.

“You’re on.”

“Zoro, are you sure?” Ace asked, a worry creasing his brow.

Zoro waved off Ace’s concern. “This’ll be nothing.”

The two entered the ring and it was right before Ace blew the whistle that Zoro realized his face and ribs hurt. A lot.

“I won’t bother with my sword,” said Mihawk. “I’m sure this’ll work just fine.” He pulled out what looked like a small pocket-knife out of his cross necklace. “Now, come at me, Roronoa Zoro.”

It was perhaps a battle that lasted fifteen seconds at most.

Zoro tried to fight with Sandai and Yubashiri, but they were both deflected. He jumped back and then Mihawk threw his knife at him, hitting him in the arm. It cut deep and mixed with the blood loss from the fight with Bones, Zoro was woozy. It took about five seconds for him to fall to his knees. 

Zoro pulled the knife out of his arm and threw it back at Mihawk, but it merely clattered at the man’s feet instead of piercing his leg like Zoro had wished.

“Try again when you get better,” said Mihawk. “I could’ve pierced your heart, but you weren’t paying full attention, were you?” He frowned. “I don’t fight half-hearted battles.”

* * *

The world was spinning. His head was already pounding and he felt a horrible pain in his chest that he couldn’t describe. He felt a hand on his shoulder, rough and demanding.

“Zoro! Zoro, you have to keep your eyes open!” That was Luffy. What was going on?

“ _Baka_! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Nami.  A vague blur of red hair was visible in front of him, but it hurt to concentrate.

“Someone call Sanji!” 

Zoro reached out desperately to grab a hold of someone, anyone. He grabbed Nami’s arm and pulled her to him. “Don’t,” he croaked out. Though he couldn't see straight and speaking made him nauseous, he forced the words out. “Don’t call Sanji.”

“What are you talking about, of course we need to call Sanji! You’re just disorientated, we’ll just call him though. Don’t worry, okay?” she said, the panic clear in her voice. “This way Sanji’ll know and he won’t have to worry when you don't turn up back at the apartment. Well, actually, he _will_ worry either way, but—”

“Liar,” Zoro choked. “He won’t care.”

“Of course he’ll care! What are you, brain damaged?” Nami tried to hoist Zoro up, but faltered. “Usopp, help me here!” 

He felt his body being lifted from the ground, his vision blurring. He tried to grab onto something to steady himself but Nami and Usopp were holding onto his arms so tightly it restricted his movement. He was sure if he fought hard enough, they’d have to let him go, but his footing was weak and he didn’t trust himself to move without vomiting.

As they lumbered him to the hospital, there was only one thing going through his mind.

_Sanji doesn’t care. Not as much as I do._

* * *

His arm felt weird.

He opened his eyes blearily and stared down at his left arm. _There’s some kind of … wire? No, tube, stuck in my arm. Why the hell is there— wait, that’s an IV._

“What the fuck am I doing in the hospital?”

“Oh, you’re awake!” 

Zoro looked up and met Nami’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You kind of … passed out from blood loss. We brought you here. The doctors say you won’t be able to use your arm for a while, which means _no fighting_.” She took a brief pause before continuing. “You were lucky, Mihawk hit pretty deep. It broke some tissue and your bone is fractured. You’ll need a sling, but it isn’t fatal or anything. Sanji donated some blood for you, so you’d better thank him when he gets here.”

“Sanji?”

“Yeah, you know, the blond cook?” Nami shook her head. “You should’ve seen him. He was having a total mental break down, screaming. When they asked what your blood type was, he immediately offered his blood. I would’ve offered mine, but by the time I managed to tell them I could donate, Sanji had already done it.” She glanced at Zoro and fell quiet. “Did you know … um, about his arms?”

That sobered him up instantly.

“If you say a word about it, I’ll kill you.”

“It isn’t my business … But Zoro … There were …” Nami took a deep breath. “Some of the cuts … they looked recent. Like maybe a day or two old.”

Zoro’s eyes widened. 

Before he could ask about it, he heard the sound of pushing and shoving outside the door. 

“Let me in!” That was Sanji. “I already told you, I’m his friend, you have to let me in! He isn’t that injured!” There was a huff and then, “Nami, get the fuck out of there, I need to talk to him!”

Nami sighed and turned to the door. “Maybe if you got rid of your cigarette and put away the swords—”

“I don't trust them with them!” Sanji screamed back.

_Swords? Does that mean …?_

The door was knocked open and Sanji barrelled in, holding Zoro’s three sheathed swords in his hand. He threw them onto the bed. “There, Marimo. I had to fight with them for a long time to be allowed to give these back to you, so you’d better be grateful, asshole!”

“Don’t throw sharp things at the ill!” Nami snapped.

“Ill?’ Sanji repeated. “They were sheathed! And besides, the idiot’s laughing!”

It _was_ rather funny, he didn’t know why Nami was glaring at him.

“I don’t know how grateful I am to someone who calls me an asshole,” Zoro told Sanji with a smirk. “Would you like to rephrase that?”

“No, I will fucking not.” Sanji rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you wouldn’t believe this guy was bleeding out a few hours ago.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” said Nami with a laugh. 

The two of them stayed in silence as she left and were still quiet when the door shut. 

Zoro didn’t know what to say to him. With the rush gone, he felt vulnerable again. He wasn’t ready to face the blond. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. The silence was killing him though.

“You shouldn’t pass the chemicals of your cigarette onto the bedridden.”

“Fuck you. Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you are? Getting into a fight with someone when you weren’t thinking straight! I couldn’t find you in the apartment, so I figured you’d gone to Luffy’s but then when I called, he didn’t answer and then just when I thought you had gotten yourself lost again, I get a call from Luffy saying that I need to come to Partys because you were bleeding out! Fuck, _I’m_ supposed to be the suicidal one here, remember?”

“About that,” Zoro said, about to lecture him on the new cuts Nami had mentioned— regardless of how stupid it would sound coming from a man who was currently in a hospital bed— when Sanji cut him off.

“No, there’s nothing about it! There’s nothing to say! Do you have any idea how much blood you lost? I’m still woozy from the amount of blood I had to donate, you moron!

"Are you fucking insane? You just … Luffy said you just collapsed when he came to the bar. I spoke to Ace, what the fuck was that bastard thinking, letting you fight in your condition? No, what the fuck were _you_ thinking, you _fucking ahou_?! I’ll tell you what you were thinking, you _weren’t_! You should know when you reach your fucking limits!

"Do you have any idea what it was like to see your body there? Just … just limp and …” Sanji stopped, unable to continue. He chewed on his cigarette. Zoro could see it was well worn. “Are you fucking stupid? Did you think you could just pass out like that and I wouldn’t care? Don’t you dare pull another stunt like that, Roronoa Zoro, you have no idea how w—” Sanji stopped. He threw his cigarette into the trash bin. Zoro expected Sanji to continue but instead, the cook put his fist against his mouth, as though to stop himself from talking.

“Were you … worried?” Zoro asked, holding his breath for the answer.

“Fuck no!”

“You sure?” he pressed.

Sanji stared out the small window at the modern Tokyo landscape. One of his hands gripped his arm. Zoro realized it was his left arm. He was holding his left arm like it was in pain. Sanji was silent, refusing to look at Zoro. Just when he was about to accept the question going unanswered, the cook spoke. 

“… No.”

_What?_

Sanji still wouldn’t look at him, but he continued. “What do you think I did when I found out? Just cause you see me as a freeloader, doesn’t mean that I don’t give a damn about you,” he said in a soft voice. “Of course I was fucking worried, Marimo.”

Zoro almost didn’t hear him with how quiet he was.

Maybe Sanji didn’t care for him like that, maybe he’d never care for him that way, but Zoro knew that for the moment in the quiet of the hospital with the moonlight shining in through the window, in the confines of this room, for right now, it was enough.

“Now go to bed,” Sanji snapped. He looked ready to collapse himself. “No one gets better without rest.” 

Sanji took long strides out of the room, Zoro watching his every move. He stopped at the door, shutting off the lights. “I’ll … I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Zoro couldn’t help smiling but in the dark of the room, who could tell? “Night, Love Cook.”

There was silence. Then—

“Night, Marimo.”

The door closed and the room fell into silence.

Yeah, for now, it was enough.


	18. Ladies' Man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Reference to past self-harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece.

It was quiet. _Too_ quiet.

It wasn’t as though the apartment was always bustling, but he had gotten accustomed to certain acoustics. Between practicing with Zoro and the noise Zoro made while Sanji was cooking the latest meal, the apartment’s soundtrack had become an assortment of subtle noises that weren't all loud, but were definitely not silent either.

It felt … empty without it.

_That Marimo’s not hurt that badly that he has to stay at the hospital, is he? Am I underestimating the wound?_

He busied himself in the kitchen, looking for some ingredients for soup.

“Sanji?”

Sanji’s head hit the top of a shelf and he muttered profanities until he turned around to find Nami standing in the doorway.

“This place is quiet, isn’t it?” she asked. “Without Zoro, I mean.”

If he said yes, would that mean she’d read into it more than necessary? Nami had been giving him this knowing look ever since he had donated his blood the night before, like she knew something and Sanji had just confirmed her suspicions about it. “Well yeah,” he settled on, “but that’s mainly cause he grunts and lumbers around like an elephant.”

Being away from Zoro was a good thing, it would let him sort out his head and figure out how he’d handle what Patty had said. He knew his first reaction wasn’t well-thought out, it was impulsive, like all first reactions really. Of course, Zoro going and getting himself injured was a bit troubling, but he’d chalk it up to bad timing.

“Liar.”

“I meant to apologize for last night,” Sanji said, changing the topic. “I um … I didn’t mean to swear at you.” He sheepishly dug his foot into the ground, as though trying to dig a hole to some other country far away from the redhead. 

“It’s fine, it’s not like Zoro censors himself around me,” Nami replied with a shrug. “Besides if I remember correctly, your first words to us all were something along the lines of … ‘who the fuck are you?’ if my memory serves me right.”

“Nami! I never knew you had such a mouth,” the blond teased.

Said woman rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Luffy and I are going to be having a dinner tonight at our house. Do you want to come?”

Sanji looked at her. “Come?” he repeated. “Don’t you mean cook?”

Nami laughed. “I’m not like Zoro, I won’t make you work like a slave. No, we’ll be ordering out and just have a get together. Usopp’ll be there. We need to talk about … something.”

“Vague much?”

Nami rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Anyway, are you going to come?”

“I’ve never been to Luffy’s.” 

“I can give you directions, it won’t be that hard to get there. It’s pretty close to here actually. But you know, since Zoro’s so directionally inept, he takes over half an hour to find a place that’s actually ten minutes away.” She shrugged. “I think I can trust you to find your way there.”

“I’ll just take a cab,” Sanji said with a shrug.

“Why? Zoro’s got a car,” Nami said. “He can’t drive in the condition he’s in, his keys are in the house, right?”

“Shit-apartment.”

Nami gave him a strange look. “What?”

“It’s …” Sanji shrugged. “It’s kind of a weird thing we do, but it’s not a house. I don’t know, I just got into an argument with Zoro once about the place and said that he shouldn’t have helped me and he said I had a roof over my head and I told him it was a shitty roof and —” Sanji shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, I want to hear this,” Nami said. “After all, Zoro rarely ever lets someone get away with an insult. It’s settled then, you’re coming and you’ll bring nothing but stories about Zoro and you. I’d like to know how much you bruised his ego.”

Sanji gave her a smile. It was the first time he had ever smiled at someone other than Zoro that was approaching genuine. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, My Lady.”

“I’m committed,” she told him with a laugh. “But if I wasn’t …” Her eyes scanned over Sanji in a way that almost made him feel self-conscious, before she flashed him a grin. “Well, it doesn’t matter since I am.” She gave him a piece of paper with an address on it and a time. With a quick “see you tonight!” she was gone.

* * *

 

It was two hours before Sanji had to leave that he realized he had no fucking clue what to wear.

Sure, Nami made it sound casual, but what if it wasn’t? What if this was … he didn't know, some kind of test on whether or not he was worthy to be Zoro’s friend or some other kind of shit like that? Or he was overthinking it? Or he was thinking just the right amount and needed a good suit?

He went into his closet and took out his usual blazer. It always looked good to him, but Zoro’s friends had probably only ever seen him wearing such a thing. He frowned. Should he wear a pinstriped shirt, or a plain one? Should he not bother with the blazer? Fuck, when was the last time he panicked this much?

He settled on a light blue button-down, which complimented his eyes and his usual pair of black dress pants. He combed his hair and worried about it the entire cab ride there until the car pulled up in front of Luffy’s house.

It was a small place, humble, like he’d expect from Luffy. He walked up the entrance way and rang the doorbell. 

He immediately turned his back to the door. Sanji ran his fingers through his hair, played with the cuff of his sleeves, fiddled with a non-existent piece of lint attached to his leg, picked at the seam of his waist-line, shoved his hands in his pockets and tapped his foot restlessly. He stared at his boots and contemplated whether or not he should’ve worn nicer shoes. There was no backing out now— well, he could call the taxi back, it wasn’t too late to leave, right?

He fidgeted, lighting a cigarette and twisting it in his hand as he let his breath escape him, the smoke floating away in the light breeze. It ruffled his hair and he was just about to fix it again when he heard voices.

“Let me get the door!”

“We won’t be able to get down the stairs if we’re all shoving our way down, it’s narrow!”

“Luffy, lay off the meat!”

“NEVER!”

“We can’t leave him out there, he’s probably worrying about something pointlessly! Luffy, Usopp, go to the table—”

“But—”

“Go!”

“Aye aye m’am!”

There was the shuffling of feet and Sanji turned around just as the door opened, revealing an out of breath Nami. “Welcome, Sanji!” Her voice was a little hoarse, probably from all the yelling.

Sanji looked over his shoulder at Luffy and Usopp who were waiting anxiously at the top of the stairs. “Should I go?” 

“You just got here,” Nami insisted. “Come on in.”

“I’m not intruding, am I?” Sanji asked, still refusing to move inside.

“Yes, clearly you’re a horrible party crasher, coming when you were invited!” Nami laughed. “I was worried you wouldn't show.”

Sanji shrugged. “Well, I mean, I considered it …” He let out another trail of smoke when his eyes widened. “Should I—?”

“No, it's fine,” Nami said. “Smoke doesn’t bother Luffy or me. Usopp can deal with it, it’s not like any of us have asthma or anything.” Nami smiled. “Now are you going to stop stalling and come in, or do we have to drag you?”

Sanji slowly entered the house. It looked warm and cozy inside and he felt like an intruder, no matter what Nami said. He took off his shoes and put on the slippers. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself. For what, he didn't know, especially since he already knew everyone in the house. It just felt weird though, that Zoro wasn’t around. 

He had last seen the Marimo less than twenty-four hours ago, why was he so on edge?

The moment he entered the dining room, Luffy and Usopp jumped on him.

“Hey Sanji! Haven’t seen you in a while!” Luffy said. 

“You saw me last night, moron,” Sanji reminded him.

“You’re a bit late,” Usopp said with a slight frown. “I think the food’s cold,” he gestured to the brown paper take-out bags.

“I’m fashionably late,” Sanji said, though he knew Usopp was lying. He was pretty sure he was early, if anything. “So what kind of food is it?”

“We’re trying Indian.”

“Indian?”

“That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Sanji replied.

Nami handed out the food and once everyone was properly set up, she looked in Sanji’s direction expectantly. “So, Sanji, don’t you have anything to tell us?”

“Pardon?”

“Remember? I asked for some stories about living with Zoro. Luffy tried it once when he first moved out of his parents’ house, but it was over in less than a month. He’s not exactly the easiest person to share a house with,” Nami stared pointedly at her boyfriend, who shrugged innocently. “How long’s it been? Two months?”

“Almost three,” Sanji replied. “Um, I guess I could tell you a few things …” He trailed off, unsure of what to talk to them about.

Mentioning that he had been on house arrest for nearly the entire first month was of course, something he’d never say to them. He thought about it. What was it like living with Zoro?

“Okay, uh … well, he doesn’t like waking up early. I’m always up before him, usually making breakfast and then he trudges in when I’m just about finished cooking. He also has some of the worst bed hair in the world.” It kind of looked adorable to him, now that he thought about it. The way Zoro’s hair stuck up in odd directions, his sweatpants looking too big on him so that they dragged along the floor and he’d stumble down the hallway. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. He’s usually out doing something or another, either at the gym or at your house,” he nodded towards Nami and Luffy. “I don't know. He meditates?” 

Nami shook her head. “No, tell us stories, please? Come on, can’t you think of anything interesting you’ve done with Zoro while you’ve been at his place?”

Sanji could think of many things.

The midnight calls that included dragging a half-awake Zoro into the kitchen, sitting him down and “teaching” how to cook. The practicing that Zoro ran him through that was tireless and endless, adrenaline pumping and heart racing. Sanji had played almost every possible speech game one could think of off the top of their head. Would You Rather, Truth, Twenty Questions, he had even gotten Zoro to play I Spy. It had lasted perhaps two minutes before Zoro screamed that Sanji was colour blind and the curtains weren’t a “cerulean” colour, whatever the fuck that meant, they were blue and Sanji was overcomplicating the game. Sanji could remember forcing Zoro to watch his usual pointless anime and the pointless time when they spoke about celebrities they thought had plastic surgery. 

He said none of them.

“He watches soap operas.”

Nami snorted. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He’d never admit it though. I found out half-way through my first month. I was in the kitchen making dinner when he turned on the TV and _Galley La_ was on. I thought he was going to change it, but he didn’t. Instead he got really quiet, and when I went to check on him, he was clutching a pillow to his chest, sobbing about how unfair it was that Kalifa never got to meet the son she had with Lucci, since she got amnesia and went back to her original character arch-type, when she was all obsessed with getting Iceberg’s money, trying to get him to change his will before he dies.”

“Shush!” Usopp said, covering his ears. “No spoilers!”

“You watch _Galley La_?” Luffy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, who doesn’t watch _Galley La_?” Usopp said, rolling his eyes.

“Kaya made you watch it, didn’t she?” Nami asked.

“Kaya’s actually a few seasons behind,” Usopp said. “I’m on season six. She’s still on season four.”

“I bet you got hooked on the plot, didn’t you?” teased Nami. “It started out cause your girlfriend forced you to watch it, but then Franky got accused for Tom’s murder, and you just had to keep watching.”

“How do you know about that? Do _you_ watch _Galley La_ , Nami?” 

“No …”

“You totally do!” Usopp laughed. “Oh my God, this is priceless!”

“I only watch it for the sexual tension between Paulie and Iceberg.”

“You know that’s never going to happen, right?” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. “For one, Iceberg is way too old for Paulie, and for another, he’s going to get together with Kokoro. Paulie’ll probably end up with Nero.”

Everyone turned their eyes to him.

“What?”

“I thought you said Zoro was the one who watched the stupid soap operas?”

“He is.” Sanji shrugged. “Just … _Galley La_ was adapted into an anime as well so …”

“Oh, this is priceless! Suave Sanji is an otaku!” Nami squealed.

“I don’t identify to that title,” Sanji said, awkwardly coughing into his fist. “Anyway, was that the only thing you needed to discuss? My ability to live with the Marimo?” 

Once Nami got over her laughter, she shook her head. “Do you know when Zoro’s birthday is?”

Sanji scratched his head. “Um … well, I came to his apartment during late August, and he told me he was about three months away from his birthday—”

“Sanji, it’s tomorrow.”

“It’s what now?!”

“Yeah, it’s Zoro birthday tomorrow,” Nami said. “And I know he’s still in the hospital. Apparently, they’re going to let him out in two days, the day _after_ his birthday.” The irony was not lost on anyone. “And we want to do something. Since you’re his newest friend, he won't suspect you’re planning on something. He never told you when his birthday was exactly, did he?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“He probably doesn’t think you know about it,” Nami reasoned. “So that means you’ll be our distraction.”

“Pardon?”

Luffy laughed. “You know, Zoro said you did that, but I’ve never seen it first-hand!”

“You’re the only one he won’t expect anything from,” Nami explained, ignoring Luffy’s remark. “Which means we want you to help us with it. We’re kind of planning something for him, but we need him out of his room for the day.”

“Wait, I never agreed to this in the first place! Plus, his birthday? Surely he wouldn’t want to spend it with me! You said it yourself, I’m the one he knows the least! What would motivate him to spend his day with me?”

“I could think of a few things …” Sanji didn’t like the look of pure evil in her eyes. “You won’t need to do anything, I swear, just keep him out of his room.”

Sanji chewed on his cigarette. “Are you sure?”

“Postive.”

Zoro _had_ taken him in, without asking for anything in return. It was the least he could do.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt …”

“Great! Now what do you think you’ll get him for a present?”

“Wait, a present?” Sanji repeated. “This is kind of short notice, isn’t it? You can’t honestly expect me to get him something with like—” Sanji checked his watch. “I have three hours till it’s tomorrow! If I’m busy distracting him, how am I supposed to get him anything?” But more importantly, he had told Zoro he would visit and he had forgotten.

Nami shrugged. “I don’t know, I figure you’re smart enough to work something out.”

“I don’t even know where to begin! What would he even want?”

The three looked at Sanji up and down. 

“Maybe …” Luffy seemed to mutter under his breath.

“You know, from this angle, he doesn’t look that bad,” Usopp muttered. “Maybe if I were gay, I might go for him.”

“You have Kaya, remember? And of course he’s good looking!” Nami shook her head. “He’d have to be to—anyway, we can help you out a little, if you want.”

Sanji shook his head. “I _live_ with the guy and I don’t know enough about him to get him a damn birthday present!” He sighed and lit another cigarette, twisting the remains of his old one between his fingers in thought.

How the fuck had he forgotten to visit Zoro?

_It’s not like he was waiting for me to turn up though. He probably forgot what I said anyway, right? He has other family, doesn’t he? Other people he'd rather be visited by, surely. I’m just thinking too much about this. It’s not like I expect him to be sitting there in the bed, staring at the door, holding his breath every time it opens._

_You want him to be though._

_That would be selfish._

_But you still want it._

Sanji shook his head again.

“Okay fine, let me hear it. What do you think I should get him?” Sanji asked, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms.

“Did we tell you that we’d be giving you gift ideas for him?” Nami frowned at Sanji’s choice to stay so far away from the group, but she shrugged it off and smirked. “I want you to close your eyes.”

It was in Sanji’s nature to be suspicious. “Why?”

“Because I said so. Don’t worry, I won’t move from where I am. None of us will. And if Luffy moves a muscle, we’ll just duct-tape him to the couch.”

“Again?”

“ _Again_?” Sanji repeated.

“It was _one_ time,” Luffy said, holding up a finger. “Just once.”

“Never mind, whatever. Fine.” He closed his eyes.

“You look like you’re bracing yourself for the sweet release of death.”

“I thought you were going to be helping me?”

There was a sigh. Sanji wanted to open his eyes. Desperately. He resisted the urge. He could do this. He knew everyone in the room, he knew they respect him and his personal space. He would be fine. Just fine.

“Okay, I want you to think about Zoro. Aloud. Don’t filter.”

“How is that supposed to help?”

“It just will,” Nami insisted. There was silence, then— “So?”

“You’re _sure_ this’ll work?”

“Absolutely.”

Sanji, with a shaky breath, started.

“Zoro? He’s tall. Tanned too. He’s an asshole. Seriously. _Such_ an asshole. A lazy one at that too. But he’s really strong too. And stubborn as hell. It’s really weird, he’s super careless with all his stuff, except when it comes to his swords. He’s hard to describe because he doesn’t make any sense. He’s full of contradictions, like how he can be really loud and full of energy, but then he’ll be quiet for hours because he’s off meditating somewhere, and he acts like he has no feelings, and then he’s bawling his eyes out because of something stupid like a cat found their mother in a terrible B-roll movie. He’s really forcefully and he always pushes, way too much, but then he decides to give when you least expect it and it’s just … I don’t know. He’s just … he’s just my Marimo … wait. Shit. Did I just—?”

Sanji’s eyes snapped open and he was brought back into reality. He turned his gaze up towards the ceiling, blinking a few times at the sudden light. He could everyone’s eyes on him. He didn’t want to know what they were thinking, but he lowered his gaze when he thought he was cool enough and met their gazes.

“You’re _really_ red Sanji,” said Luffy with a bright smile. “Like a tomato!”

Sanji coughed into his sleeve. “Um, right, so anyway, that was pointless!”

But it hadn’t been. He knew exactly what to get Zoro.

“If you’ll excuse me!”

Grabbing his wallet, Sanji ran to the vestibule and was about to take off his slippers and call a taxi when he heard Nami say something that made him freeze in his tracks.

“…told you it was mutual.”

“You bet against Nami?” came Luffy’s voice.

“What’s mutual?” Sanji asked, trying to get his other boot on his foot before the shops closed, one of them firmly secured on his foot.

“You’re in love with Zoro!”

“WHAT?!” The cigarette slipped out of Sanji’s mouth, burning his skin. “SHIT!”

“Haha, your voice just cracked!”

“It did not!”

“It did it again!”

Sanji stomped out the cigarette and slammed his foot into his boot before turning abruptly to Luffy. “What the fuck do you mean ‘you’re in love with Zoro’?!”

“Oh, I’m not,” Luffy said. “You are, but not me.”

“That’s what I meant!” 

“But you just said ‘you’re’, as in me.”

“No, I said ‘you’re’ as in I was quoting you, which meant me!”

Luffy blinked. “Why do I feel like I’ve gone through this before?”

Sanji shook his head. “No, you’re lying. I have no idea where the fuck you pulled that idea out of, but what the fuck do you know about love?”

“Yup, I’ve definitely had this conversation before.” Luffy slung an arm around Nami and gave Sanji a big smile. “I’m in love with Nami, so I know.”

“Fuck you knowing!” Sanji snarled. “Who the fuck do you think you are, with your big stupid smile on your face like you didn’t just tell me the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard?”

Luffy frowned and tilted his head. “You haven’t heard weirder? Well, stick around long enough and Usopp’ll tell you something even more ridiculous!” he said with a laugh.

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT, _BAKA_!” 

Sanji took a deep breath, trying to get himself back under control. He wondered if this was what Zoro felt all the times he seemed to blow up. It wasn’t really anger, he wasn’t angry at Luffy for his blatant lie, it was more like … he was confused? He was confused and frustrated and the world kept spinning and he just wanted to scream at everything to _stop_ so he could focus again and get his bearings, but there was never any time.

“Look, you need to get your head checked,” Sanji informed him. “I’m going to go and buy Zoro his birthday present and then when I see you tomorrow, you’re going to be off whatever the fuck drugs you’re on now and think clearly, seeing that me being in love with Zoro is absolutely impossible!” 

Sanji punctuated his sentence with the loud slam of the door and called a taxi, unable to believe the audacity Luffy had, claiming he was in love with Zoro! Ha! Him! In love with that Marimo?

_Ding._

Sanji opened his phone to see he got a text from Luffy.

Luffy: _I should rephrase what I said. You aren’t in love with Zoro._

 _Thank God for seeing sense,_ Sanji thought with a smirk. _Knew that guy’s hat was on a little too tight._

_Ding._

When Sanji looked at his phone, he was ready to murder the straw hat, whether or not it was legal.

Luffy: _You’re FALLING in love with Zoro._

Sanji opened a browser on his phone and quickly searched through the maps before telling the driver he wanted to go to _Ken Mise_.

He didn’t want to seem very giddy, but he had to contain his excitement when he got back into the taxi after purchasing his gift and telling the taxi to take him home. He remembered the look on the shop owner’s face when he had come in at eleven, asking a closed shop if he could make a purchase. When he had chosen his gift, the man behind the cash had tallied it up and gave him a smile.

“You have good taste,” he had told him. “For anyone in particular?”

“A friend,” Sanji had replied.

“Well, they must be a special friend, if you’re paying over 200 00 yen for them.”

Sanji had tried not to blush and gotten back into the taxi. 

He thought about it. It was nearly twelve … 

Oh, what the hell.

He texted Nami, asking for the hospital’s number and Zoro’s room and before he could second guess himself, he was already dialling.

It rang twice before someone picked up.

“Who the fuck is calling at 11:53 at night?” demanded a grumpy voice. Zoro.

“Well, _pardon_ me, Marimo.” Sanji wondered if Zoro could hear the smile in his voice.

“Dart Brow?”

Sanji sighed. “Are my eyebrows really that screwed up?”

“More like fucked up,” came Zoro's reply. “But seriously, what are you doing, calling at this time?”

Sanji was about to answer when he realized something. “You don’t sound tired.”

“I’m not. Can’t sleep. The coffee they have here sucks, but it’s enough to keep me up.”

“Seriously? You’re injured!” Sanji snapped. “Didn’t I tell you that you needed rest?”

“Worried, Cook?”

Sanji bit the inside of his cheek. “You already know the answer to that.” He didn’t want to think about the way he had exploded over Zoro’s actions the night before. Especially not when he knew he cared more than Zoro did. “Anyway, I called to apologize for not turning up today,” he said.

_What the fuck am I thinking? We’ve gone over this Sanji, it's not like he was waiting for you to turn up!_

“Yeah, you know, that was kind of a dick move,” Zoro agreed. “I mean telling someone you’d turn up and then totally not be there? I’d think I was stood up.”

“Don’t make it sound like a date.”

Luffy’s words kept ringing in his ears. 

_“You’re in love with Zoro.”_

“Right,” said Zoro. There was silence on the other end for a moment. “Course not.”

 _Does that mean anything?_ Sanji found himself wondering. He shook his head and berated himself before taking a deep breath. “Anyway, I _will_ be there tomorrow.”

“Don’t get my hopes up for nothing,” said Zoro in a teasing voice, but there was something else there, the slightest trace of _something_ that Sanji dared not think about. 

“Yeah well, it’d be stupid not to go. I’ve got a surprise for you, and I can’t very well give it to you if I’m not there, can I?”

Sanji’s fingers trailed over the black and red. _God, I hope he likes it._

“Surprise?” Zoro echoed. “If you’re a no-show, I’m _really_ going to kick your ass,” he warned him. “Don’t offer gifts if you aren’t planning on delivering.”

“Like you could kick my ass in your condition,” Sanji said with a smirk. 

“It’s your stop,” said the driver.

Sanji got out of the car, gave him his money and put Zoro’s gift under his arm. He opened the door to the apartment, with the phone pressed against his ear and his shoulder. “So, what’s the hospital like?”

“Why the fuck are you out so late? It’s 11:58 at night!”

“As you’ve mentioned before,” Sanji chuckled. He dropped his wallet on the kitchen table and sat down on the couch, placing the gift on the coffee table. He yawned. “Worried about me?”

There was silence. Then—

“Maybe.”

Sanji’s eyes widened in surprise. He felt his chest warm with something he couldn’t identify and instead let himself sprawl out across the couch. “Oh yeah?” he yawned.

“Sleepy?” 

“No.” Sanji couldn’t hold back another yawn, his eyes drifting close.

“You sure?”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

“ _Baka_.”

The way Zoro spoke, it was so gentle, in such a different tone than anything Sanji had ever heard the swordsman say. Though it was an insult, it sounded … _affectionate_? 

He curled his legs into himself, vowing to get up once he was finished talking with Zoro. He figured the conversation would be over soon anyway. “ _Ahou_ ,” Sanji said back in a soft voice.

“You should get some sleep.”

“So should you.”

“I have an excuse, coffee, remember?”

Sanji sighed, his eyes feeling heavy as he tried to keep them open. “If the coffee’s shit, don’t drink it.”

“I needed to try to counteract the anaesthetics,” Zoro replied. “I couldn’t be a slug, could I?”

“Aren’t you normally a slug?” Sanji said, a smirk settling on his lips.

“You’re tired, so I won’t say anything,” Zoro said, yawning himself.

“You going to sleep yet, Marimo?”

“Not yet.” He paused. “You know, the place still smells of nicotine.”

“Really?”

“Yup. That’s strong stuff. Just watch, you’ll be the next one in this bed,” Zoro teased.

“Hey Zoro?” asked Sanji, feeling reality slowly slip around him.

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

There was silence.

“Yes,” Zoro replied after a while. It was soft, almost silent. Sanji felt his stomach drop out of him. “But that was a long time ago.”

“How about now?”

“Huh?”

“Are you …” Sanji took a deep breath, wondering if he really wanted an answer to his question. “Are you in love now?”

“No.” He seemed to be thinking a little, or probably, as much as his foggy brain could. Sanji knew his thoughts were getting jumbled and mixed around himself. “I think I might be soon though …”

“That’s nice,” Sanji said with another yawn. He stared at the sheath on the coffee table. “I think I might too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Zoro’s voice sounded slightly far-away, like he was lost in thought, or something. _Idiot Marimo, getting lost in his own mind._ “With who?”

“Not telling.” He yawned again. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Okay.” Was it just him or did Zoro sound disappointed? The sleep must’ve been doing something to his ears.

“Oh and Zoro?” said Sanji, using the last of his strength to speak.

“Yeah?”

“When you get out, I’ll make you the best fucking coffee you’ve ever had.”

“It’s a deal.”

With that, Sanji slipped into slumber, the last thought he had being,

_Maybe Luffy’s right. Just a little. Zoro’s got a fucking sexy voice, after all._


	19. A Birthday in the Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Lots of word games in here. And some French.

****There was something special about today.

Zoro couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but he got the feeling he was supposed to remember.

As he was contemplating what he had forgotten, he heard the door open and sat up in bed.

“Morning, Marimo,” greeted Sanji. He stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning against a wall, the cigarette as usual, resting in the corner of his mouth. Zoro had to tear his eyes away from Sanji to remind himself it was weird to stare at another man’s lips. Sanji’s response to his hospitalization was doing weird things to Zoro’s brain, giving him ideas.

“Didn’t think you’d be coming,” Zoro said in a teasing voice.

“And stand you up?” Sanji asked with a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

Zoro decided not to mention that’s exactly what Sanji had done the day before. Instead, he fought down the blush and gripped his sheets tighter. “Don’t make it sound like its a date.”

“You’re the one who said it last night,” Sanji reminded him. “I think.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, the last few minutes I was awake are pretty fuzzy. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, why don’t we take a walk?”

“A walk?”

“What? You haven’t broken your legs since the last time I saw you, did you?” 

“No, but—”

“Then we’re walking,” Sanji said. “What, do I need to sign you out or something to leave this room like you’re some member of an asylum or something?” He rolled his eyes. “Get up Marimo, we’re going to go exploring.”

“I’m not a child,” Zoro told him, but he complied. He pulled his blankets off of himself and used his hand as leverage to push off the bed. All of this was done unsteadily by his right hand. “Fuck, I hate being injured …”

“Yes, I suppose it isn’t all sunshine and roses, is it?” Sanji asked him and Zoro suddenly felt incredibly bad.

Sanji had probably been through hell— no, he _had_ gone through hell, with countless bruises, scars and burns to prove it and here was Zoro being all insensitive, thinking that just cause he had a slightly damaged arm, he had the rottenest luck in the world. “Sanji, I—”

“It’s fine,” Sanji waved him off. “Let’s get going.”

Zoro glared at his cigarette. “Do you care about people’s health at all?”

“Besides my own? No, not really. Well, on the occasion I’ll worry about nimrod Marimos, but you don’t meet them every day, you know.” He winked at him and Zoro felt his cheeks light up. The room was hot. It was very hot. And he was _not_ blushing because Roronoa Zoro does not blush. Nope. Never.

“Where’s my surprise?” Zoro asked.

“Surprise?” Sanji echoed.

“I believe you mentioned one last night. Where is it?”

“Oh, that,” Sanji said. “Um, you’ll have to wait for it.”

Zoro did not pout because Roronoa Zoro was above pouting. Pouting was for babies and puppies and whiny people who were desperate for something. Which Zoro wasn’t.

“Come on, I want to see the place,” Sanji said. “I didn’t get to look around much last time I was here.”

Zoro rubbed his neck with his good arm. It still felt weird doing it. “You want to tour a hospital?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Too late.”

“Don’t make me put you in a wheelchair. Now get your lazy ass moving.”

Zoro complained the entire time as Sanji dragged him into the hallway. 

His nurse gave him a small smile. “You’ll be leaving your room today, Mr. Roronoa?”

Zoro gritted his teeth. He knew the nurse meant well but he was sick and tired of being treated like a wounded animal around the hospital. Sure, he was _injured_ , he could admit that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t eat on his own (with some difficulty). He could still walk, could still talk and he was breathing, wasn’t he? He gave her a curt nod and grasped Sanji’s shoulder with his good arm. “Come on, let’s go. Where are we headed?”

“You’re the one steering me,” Sanji said, eyeing Zoro’s hand on his shoulder.

Zoro let go of him almost instantly. “Yeah well … you don’t know where you’re going.”

“It’s a hospital with signs everywhere, even _you_ couldn’t get lost,” Sanji told him, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. It’s nine, you aren’t hungry?”

Zoro wanted to cross his arms, but he couldn’t with the annoying cast on his arm. “They have shit food here too. It’s not just the coffee.”

“You have a shit pallet,” Sanji said. 

They entered the elevator and Sanji hit a button. The doors closed.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, how do you know that’s where the cafeteria is?”

“I don’t,” Sanji admitted. “But we have time, so I figure it isn’t the worst thing if we get a little lost.” He eyed Zoro’s cast and smirked. “Making a fashion statement?”

“Shut up.” Zoro tried to twist his smile into a scowl, but he looked like he was having a seizure, making Sanji laugh at him.

Zoro loved the sound of his laugh.

_No, bad Zoro._

“Aren’t people supposed to sign a cast?” asked Sanji. 

“I don’t fucking know. Does it really matter?”

“You’re breaking tradition if you don’t have at least one person sign it. Besides if that room has anymore white in it, it’ll be a marshmallow.”

“If it’s such a big deal to you, then sign it yourself.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Whatever.”

_Ding._

The doors opened and a couple rolled in. The girl was in a wheelchair, her foot propped up in front of her. Zoro knew they were a couple just from the nauseating lovey-dovey aura surrounding them as they took a position near the corner of the elevator. Zoro felt incredibly uncomfortable in their presence, perhaps because they were giving each other stupid kiss-y faces. He wanted to puke. PDA wasn’t the worst thing he had ever experienced, but he still didn’t feel comfortable in a confined area where it seemed likely those two were going to stick their tongues into each others throat without any way to escape.

And of course, that’s exactly what they proceeded to do. Zoro turned his gaze to the ceiling, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Luffy and Nami were fine, they just gave each other quick pecks before they left the house or every now and then they _did_ make-out, but that only lasted five seconds until Zoro cleared his throat, feeling awkward and they stopped. This couple … how did you tell strangers that their desire to pull each others’ clothes off was a bit disturbing? Well, he supposed anyone would find it disturbing, but then again, people didn’t have a problem with watching strangers fuck, that’s what porn was after all.

He counted down from ten in his head, tapped his foot against the floor, hummed a ridiculously loud rock song underneath his breath to avoid hearing the slobbering sounds the couple seemed to have amplified the more Zoro tried to drown them out.

He let his eyes wander elsewhere in the elevator to Sanji and realized something. 

Sanji was watching them.

It wasn’t even subtle, it was straight up staring and it was as if he was analyzing it, like he was watching and committing it to memory, like this was one of those things they taught you in school that was going to be useful later on in life, and you actually realized and took your head off the desk and stopped sleeping to listen. 

_Ding._

The doors opened again and the couple got out. It felt like it had been forever, but really, it had been maybe ten seconds? They had three more floors to go.

Zoro cleared his throat awkwardly and fought down the blush on his cheeks. “You should’ve taken a picture,” he told Sanji. “Would’ve lasted longer.”

Sanji turned to him. “Jealous?”

“Of what?” Zoro demanded. He eyed Sanji’s cigarette and frowned. “Smoking in a confined space like this—”

“You’re red, Marimo.”

_Fuck him and his sexy smirk._

“I am not!”

“And you’re in denial,” Sanji added, looking even more amused then before.

“Perverted voyeur.”

“Better than an prude blusher.”

“Is that even a word?”

“I said it, so it must be.”

_Ding._

The doors opened again.

“Our stop, Marimo,” Sanji told him. Guiding him by his shoulder, he pulled Zoro out of the elevator.

The doors closed behind them and Sanji checked his watch as though this was going to tell him the truth of the universe and frowned. “It’s only been fifteen minutes?”

“Tired of me already?” 

_Please don’t be tired of me._

The blond didn’t answer him and instead, walked past him down a hall. “You coming?”

Zoro cursed the blond under his breath until the cook stopped abruptly, causing Zoro to bump into his back.

“Fuck, give me a warning, would you?” Zoro demanded. “Do you want me to be hospitalized any longer?”

“It’s your fault in the first place.”

_No, it’s your fault, you damn cook. You and your stupid self getting stuck in my head. Apparently, the only way you to shake you out of my thoughts is to nearly die. Course, you don’t feel guilty, do you?_

The smell of pseudo food met Zoro’s nose. He had learnt the night before that hospital food was like a child’s toy. It looked real and edible but the second you bit into it, you discovered it was made of plastic and left a horrible taste in your mouth, sending you to the hospital for choking on a fake grape. Funny, the food here was no better.

“Don’t make me go in there,” Zoro said in a voice that was not a plea because Roronoa Zoro didn’t plea. Not even if you begged him to.

“Come on Marimo, you need to eat.” Sanji pulled on his good arm.

Zoro dug his feet into the ground, hoping they’d keep him routed in the spot, but it was all in vain. As his feet skid across the floor, he wondered who he’d leave his stuff to. He had nearly died drinking their coffee and he highly doubted he’d make it through a full meal. “I don’t have to eat,” Zoro said, “I’m not hungry.”

His stomach growled. Loudly.

Sanji gave him a knowing look. “Of course you’re fine.” He continued to drag Zoro with him. 

_Damn stomach, fucking traitor!_

As the cafeteria drew nearer, Zoro got desperate. “Please, don’t take me in there!” Roronoa Zoro did not— fuck it, fine, he begged but that cafeteria was fucking _scary_ as hell!

“Honestly, how did you get through high school?” Sanji asked with a sigh. “If you can’t enter the cafeteria—”

“When I was in high school, I had never tried your cooking!”

Sanji’s grip on his arm loosened slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 _I am not inflating his ego,_ Zoro decided.

“It means your cooking’s heavenly and anything else tastes like fucking garbage.”

_Well, fuck._

And then Zoro’s brain came up with an ingenious plan.

He ran.

* * *

When he had made the third left turn, he realized he was completely and utterly lost.

_Shit._

This wasn’t possible. Sanji had said it himself. There were tons of signs everywhere, it wasn’t that hard to find a sign and read it. He’d figure out where he was. 

_Okay, think. You got on an elevator, which went from the first floor to the … fifth? Am I on the fifth floor? Why the fuck does this hospital have so many floors?_

Oh! He knew what he had to do! He just had to find the nearest elevator and the number of the floor would surely be written on the wall somewhere near there. Right, okay. Now where was the nearest elevator?

The problem with being lost, is that in order to get un-lost, you needed to find your starting point, or at least, have some other place you wanted to get to in order to fix yourself and get your bearings. In order to do that, you had to have a reasonably good sense of direction. In order to do that, you had to _not_ be Roronoa Zoro.

It was at that moment a girl and a boy rolled by. The girl was in a wheelchair, her foot propped up— _Oh great, just fucking, it’s the tonsil hockey players._

Zoro glared at them as they passed, talking to each other. It was at that moment that he realized something. He didn’t need to have a good sense of direction, he just needed someone else to have it.

“Hey,” Zoro said, raising his voice to the couple. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

The girl and boy looked at him strangely, obviously having no idea why he was talking to them. “I don’t bite,” he added, just for good measure. “I’m just a bit uh …” He rubbed his neck with his good hand. Fuck this was embarrassing. “Just a bit lost,” he admitted.

The girl looked at him blankly for a moment before looking up and whispering to her boyfriend. He nodded and laughed a little.

“ _On ne parle pas japonais_ ,” he said. (“We don’t speak Japanese.”)

Oh thank God, they spoke a language he knew!

“ _Je m’excuse, je ne veux pas vous-dérangé, sauf c’est seulement que je suis in peux perdu. Es-ce que vous puissiez m’aidé?_ ” (“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you, but I’m a bit lost. Could you help?”)

The man stared at him and blinked. He seemed a bit shocked that Zoro spoke French. “ _Où est l’autre homme qui était avec vous?_ ” (“Where’s the man you were with?”)

“ _Je sais pas,_ ” Zoro replied. “ _Savez-vous comment d’allez au l’aire de restauration?_ ” (“I don’t know. Do you know how to get to the cafeteria?”)

The two of them helped give him directions. He thanked them gratefully and headed on his way, but not before he heard the girl giggle something to her boyfriend.

“ _Son copain et lui sont vraiment mignon, n’est ce pas?_ ” (“He and his boyfriend are really cute, aren’t they?”)

Zoro tried not to act as though that affected him at all. Nope, it did nothing. But how the fuck did they come up with that conclusion?

Using their directions, he was almost at the cafeteria when he heard something over the loud speaker.

“We have received a recent complaint from someone who shall remain anonymous, complaining about a tall blond man screaming about some type of green algae. The witness says the man is alternating between strong cuss words and the name ‘Zoro’. If Zoro would please make his way to the cafeteria and if the man could please stop disturbing the others, it’d be much appreciated. Also, could the man please stop smoking? This is a hospital after all. Thank you.”

Zoro was going to fucking kill him.

When he got into the cafeteria he found Sanji sitting at a table with a tray full of food and a cup of coffee in the corner of his tray.

Zoro slammed his good hand down on the table and glared at him. “Was the loud speaker really necessary?”

Sanji looked up as though he only just realized he had gotten there. “Hello Zoro, how are you? I’m fine, Sanji, how are you? Well, hard to say considering I just caused the beauties of the hospital to complain due to you. Do you need a map of the hospital?”

“No, you are not allowed to get into a one-sided conversation with yourself. What, did you think screaming my name would make me come?” 

Sanji stared at him. He turned his head to the side as the beginning of a blush started to surface.

Zoro blinked. Then—

“Pervert!”

The entire cafeteria turned to hush him. 

“Give me a fucking break, I’m injured!”  

He took a seat and tried to fold his arms for the thousandth time that day, only to find his arms wouldn’t cross. Fuck, he hated being handicapped. 

There was silence while Zoro silently fumed. Sanji broke it.

“This coffee really is shit.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “I told you it was awful, why’d you drink it?”

“I figured you were just being bitchy,” Sanji shrugged. He stirred his coffee with a spoon. He took it black, did he?  “So …” Sanji seemed to be considering what he was going to say, before he spoke again. “Did you mean it?”

“What, that you’re a pervert?”

“No, the thing about my cooking.”

Zoro stared at him. 

There was no way Sanji didn't know how amazing his food was. Every time Luffy visited, he insisted on eating everything Sanji made, whether or not it was prepared for him. Had Sanji forgotten about Zoro’s embarrassing moan in the middle of a crowded restaurant? 

Zoro wanted to stuff his mouth with food to avoid telling him, but he knew trying anything on Sanji’s tray would be like trying to eat rubber. “Just a little.”

Sanji seemed to mull this over a bit before he put his coffee aside and flashed Zoro a grin. The swordsman would never get used to feeling Sanji’s smile full-force. “Let’s play a game.”

“Oi, you and your games! I thought we played them all.”

“I’ve got a few more up my sleeve.”

“Shouldn’t I be getting back to my room?”

“You just found me again,” Sanji said, “let’s stay a while. Besides, we can hardly play this game in your room.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. “Dare I ask?”

“Have you ever rated anyone?”

“Have I ever _what_?”

Sanji pointed towards the woman behind the cash register. She was tall, a bit chubby and wore a hairnet that seemed just a little too tight. Her uniform seemed to barely fit her. “One’s the lowest, ten’s the highest. I give her a six.”

“What, not a ten?” Zoro teased. “The great ladies’ man is being picky, isn’t he?”

“Look, I’ve got my reasons. At the current moment, she seems to be a six. I mean, she has really nice hair, probably if it wasn’t up in that hairnet and she’s wearing a bit too much make-up for my taste. Her nails are well done though and she has really pretty eyes. Her shoes are nice and if her uniform actually fit her, she wouldn’t look all that bad. Her potential’s there, she just isn’t trying.”

Zoro peered at him strangely. “You don’t consider this degrading towards women?”

“Not really, I’m appreciating beauty and stating my opinion. If you were to play with the other cooks though …” Sanji shivered for a reason that Zoro was sure was more than just how crude they'd be. “Besides, I can appreciate a man’s attractiveness as much as a woman’s.”

_He’s straight, he’s straight, he’s straight._

“Fine,” Zoro conceded. “What about … her?”

He pointed to a girl who was getting coffee from the shit coffee machine. She was wearing jeans that hugged her legs perfectly, stilettos and a crop top. Her nails looked well-manicured and she had a belly-button piercing to top it all off. Her hair was nice and long, falling past her elbows in a wave down her back. She was probably some patient’s daughter, getting him a drink or something.

Sanji looked at her for a moment. “Four.”

“Four?” Zoro echoed.

“Yeah. First of all, look at how much skin she’s showing.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Sanji shook his head. “No, best to leave it up to the imagination. She’s not steady in those shoes, see how she’s walking with the cup in both hands? Zoro, she’s anorexic,” Sanji said. “She looks fake.”

“Fake?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Can you look at her cleavage and tell me honestly that it’s real?”

“Her c-cleavage?” He shook his head. “I’m not looking there!”

“So innocent,” Sanji mused with a smirk. “I’m sure she’s beautiful, but she’s trying too hard. Imagine her without her without the make-up and pretend her breast size is maybe, half the size it is now. Add some meat onto her bones, and cover her stomach.”

Zoro tried to do it. He frowned. “She … looks a completely different person.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Yes,” Zoro admitted. 

“Okay, your turn.” Sanji pointed towards a man sitting a few tables away.

The man was average height with a small goatee and dark hair slicked back. He wore sunglasses (he was one of _those_ people, the ones who wore glasses inside) and a simple polo shirt with a pair of black pants. 

Zoro stared at the man. He had never spent much time looking at others, he was too busy focusing on training and the like. “He’s …” He thought about it. He wondered if Sanji ever put this much thought into the number he gave others. “Four.”

“Tough crowd,” Sanji whistled. “Why so low?”

“He’s a douche,” Zoro said. “Wearing glasses inside, his hair slicked back looks greasy, plus his goatee looks stupid.”

“What if he’s blind?” Sanji asked.

“Huh?”

“This is a hospital, you know sometimes blind people wear sunglasses indoors.”

“Yeah well …” Zoro felt bad, but he wasn’t going to tell Sanji that.

“I’d give him a seven,” Sanji said. “His polo’s well-pressed and he looks like a business man. He’s sophisticated. He’s a tad mysterious with the glasses. I bet he’s a lawyer—”

“Have you ever seen a lawyer who wasn’t wearing a suit?”

“I did once. One of the customers was one. Lawyers don’t spend all day in suits, you know. Either way, from the angle I’m looking at him from, his hair looks really cool. Besides, that goatee’s kind of hot.”

Zoro stared at him. Did Sanji realize what he had just said?

“Okay, next person,” the blond said, moving on to their next victim.

It went on like this for almost two hours before Sanji decided to change games.

“I’m going to give you a category,” Sanji declared. “And then, we have to name things under that category. We can’t repeat anything and we have … say five seconds to answer.”

“What?” Zoro demanded. He thought they were going to rate the pregnant woman who was yelling at her husband, but apparently his six would have to wait for another time. 

“Okay, then. The category’s colours. Black.”

“Blue— wait! Black’s not a colour!”

“It is to me. Red.”

“Yellow. It isn’t one, it’s a fucking shade.”

“Green. Not according to me.”

“Orange. According to practically the whole universe, it is!”

“Purple. Well, the whole universe can go fuck itself, I still think it’s a colour.”

“White. The whole universe doesn’t give a fuck what you think.”

“Brown. White’s not a colour, Marimo.”

“Pink. If black’s a colour, so is white.”

“Violet. White is what you end up with when there’s a complete absence of colour, isn’t it?”

“Grey. Isn’t that what black is?”

“Magenta. Fine, whatever, white’s a colour, but only if black's a colour.”

“Turquoise. What the fuck is magenta? And black will never be a colour.”

“Lilac. Of course black’s a colour, it’s my favourite one, remember? And you’ve heard of turquoise but not magenta?”

“Gainsboro. I think you’re just pulling things out of your ass right now.”

“Emerald. What the fuck is gainsboro? You’re the one pulling things out of their ass!”

“Light grey. It’s a shade of grey.”

“Scarlet. Fuck, don’t tell me we’re going through forty-seven more shades, are we?”

“Spanish gray. And why the fuck not?”

“Aquamarine and seriously? Is that even a real shade?”

“Gunmetal and yes, it is a real shade.”

“Vermillion. Great, next you’re going to bring in the handcuffs and a riding crop.”

“WHAT?!”

Sanji smirked. “I win.”

Zoro blinked. He was still stuck on the handcuffs and riding crop. “What the fuck is that about?” he demanded.

“ _Fifty Shades of Pornography,_ better known as _Fifty Shades of Grey_ ,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, moving on. I won, you choose the next category.”

“The only reason you won is because you started talking about perverted things!” Zoro shivered. “God, have you no shame?”

“Not really. Pick a category Marimo,” Sanji told him. 

Zoro tried to stop his head from spinning. He decided to push Sanji’s inner-pervert to the back of his mind since now didn’t seem like the time to worry about it. “Swords,” he said.

Sanji’s face drained of colour. The cook was naturally pale but now he looked even paler. Zoro smirked. “I start?”

“Um, yeah,” Sanji said, gulping.

It was fun to watch Sanji squirm. 

“Wado.”

_1\. 2. 3. 4—_

“Katana.”

Zoro decided to let it pass. “Sandai.”

_1\. 2. 3. 4. 4.5. 5—_

“Fuck!”

Zoro smirked. “I win.”

Sanji glared at him and Zoro met him, their category game becoming an intense staring competition.

Upon closer inspection, Zoro realized Sanji’s eyes weren’t entirely blue. There was the lightest hint of grey in his iris as well. It was … very interesting. Seeing the ocean blue mixed with the lightest trace of a storm cloud. He leaned a bit closer, wanting to put his hands on the table to get a better look, see what other colours Sanji was hiding in those eyes of his, when he heard the sound of the loud speaker.

“Um, we’ve received another complaint from a patient about a redheaded woman who’s in his room, currently, screaming at him for hiding someone. She’s accompanied by a few other people, there’s a limited number of people allowed in a hospital bedroom at a time, remember that. Would the— pardon my language— ‘shitty swordsman’ come back to the room so that the patient may sleep?”

Sanji’s eyes widened suddenly. “Fuck, I totally forgot!” He checked his phone and groaned. “She’s going to kill me. Get up, Marimo, we’re going back to your room.”

Dragging him into the elevator, he pressed the first floor button and the doors closed.

They stood in silence for a while, the awful elevator music making Zoro sick until he spoke. “What’d you forget?”

“None of your business, Marimo.”

That was all they said before the doors opened again and Sanji dragged him to his room.

There was a nurse standing outside the door, frowning. “The room’s reached its maximum number of people allowed in at a time—”

“He’s a patient,” Sanji said, gesturing towards Zoro. “See? His arm’s broken.”

“That may be so, but—”

“Look, I’m sorry Miss, but we kind of need to get inside there.” Sanji gave her an innocent smile. “You understand, don’t you? This man needs his rest and he’s unable to get it in this noisy hallway.”

Zoro decided not to mention that there was no one else in the hallway but them.

“Well, uh …”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Sanji said, moving behind her and opening the door.

“It’s against regulations to smoke inside this building,” said the nurse, spluttering a little. Zoro tried to glance into the room, but it looked fairly dark. He wondered how the man in the bed next to his managed to phone anyone to complain considering the darkness. “It’s prohibited.”

Sanji turned to her. “You can make an exception, can’t you?” he asked her, his voice sounding silky and soft.

The woman seemed to shiver and nodded profusely. “Of course sir!”

Sanji flashed her a smile before roughly pushing Zoro into the room.

“SURPRISE!”

The light switch flipped on. All of Zoro’s friends surrounded Zoro’s empty bed, a cake on the bedside table. 

“What’s going on?”

“He actually forgot. He actually _fucking forgot_ ,” hissed Nami.

Sanji smirked. “Happy birthday, Marimo.”

Birthday? It was … oh fuck, that was what he was supposed to remember, wasn’t it?

“Oh …”

Luffy frowned. “Can we eat the cake now?”

Zoro stared at the cake with the blue icing on it, written in fancy script was: _Happy Birthday Zoro!_ He frowned. “This isn’t from the cafeteria, is it?”

“Sanji made it,” Luffy said. “Can I eat it now?”

“ _You_ made it?” Zoro asked, turning to the blond.

Sanji turned his head away, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Yeah well …” He shrugged. “Are you gonna eat it before it gets cold?”

“It’s a cake. It’s supposed to be cold,” Zoro deadpanned.

“We’ve been waiting _forever_ ,” Nami said. “Sanji had to keep you out of the room for like, I dunno, two hours and instead he kept you for like, four! He didn’t answer any of his messages either!”

“I’m in a hospital,” Sanji said. “It’d be rude to have my phone on. And I didn’t hold him up for four hours, it was more like three and a half. The idiot got lost.”

Usopp sighed and shook his head. “Seriously?”

Zoro turned to Sanji. “So, wait, is this the surprise you were talking about?”

Sanji shook his head. 

“But it’s a party and you made a cake— what’s this?”

Sanji had thrust a package into Zoro’s hands, a wrapped gift with a small note on it, saying:

_To: Marimo_

_From: Curlicue_

Obviously great care had been put into wrapping it, so naturally Zoro ripped it open without a single care in the world.

The entire room held its breath.

“ _That's_ what you got him?”

“That’s … _holy shit_!”

Luffy just kept eating while Ace grinned.

In Zoro’s hands was a red and black sheath, and from the weight of it, there was a sword in there. Slowly, using his right hand, he unsteadily pulled the blade out of its cover and stared at it. The blade was a pure black, shiny and it looked sharp. It was … God, this was amazing!

Zoro couldn’t speak, his voice wouldn’t work.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it,” Sanji said slowly, taking Zoro’s speechlessness as a potentially bad sign. “See, I don’t know, I saw it there and it looked pretty and it had an awesome name, Shusui and all, and I thought maybe you could use another sword?” He chewed on his cigarette. “Never mind, it was stupid—”

Sanji was cut off by Zoro wrapping his arms around him tightly, hugging him, the sword in his hand slapping against his back gently. 

Zoro wasn’t sure if he was crying, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he was and at that moment, he didn’t care.

“Thank you,” he said, “thank you so much!”

Sanji rolled his eyes but returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Zoro, just a tad awkwardly. “Your welcome.”

He smelt like cigarettes and spices and—

Ace whistled and the two broke apart. 

Zoro scratched his head, trying to hide his embarrassment. Sanji turned away.

“How are we supposed to top _that_?” demanded Luffy through a mouthful of cake.

Zoro smirked. “I’d like to see you try.” He looked over at Sanji again. 

The party continued and though Luffy had already started to eat the cake, they lit up the candles. 

What did he have to wish for? All his friends were here, he had a brand new sword, everyone had good health, his arm was going to heal in a few weeks … 

The flickering flames of the candles warmed his face. He glanced at the cook out of the corner of his eye.

“ _Son copain et lui sont vraiment mignon, n’est ce pas?_ ”

He knew exactly what to wish for.

Everyone clapped and cheered when he blew the candles out.

“So, what’d you wish for?” asked Nami.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” Zoro told her teasingly, but he knew even if he told her, it still wouldn’t come true.

Zoro’s wish had been this: _I wish Sanji was “mon copain”._

But that was impossible, wasn’t it?


	20. Entertain (Distract) Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UST  
> Mentions of past self-harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece.

Sanji was fidgety.

In a single hour he had cleaned the kitchen at least twice and gone through a packet of cigarettes. He had at least another half-hour before Zoro came back and he was busy worrying and chewing on his cigarettes, smoking them less than half-way before throwing them out and Sanji _hated_ wasting cigarettes.

There was no doubt that on that day three days ago, Nami and the others had seen. 

He had to roll up his sleeve to let the doctor take his blood, no one in their right mind could miss the scars, the burns, the bruises. Knowing Nami, she probably told Zoro about it which meant Zoro was sure to ask when he got back and Sanji wasn’t sure what to tell him. He didn’t want him to know about the trip he had taken to the Baratie.

The night Zoro had been admitted to the hospital was the last night Sanji had cut. 

It was when the crimson fell into the stainless sink, looking like droplets of rain, that he realized what he was doing. He knew that this dependance of his was an unhealthy manner of “healing”. He had stared at his own blood as he ran the water, watching it swirl down the drain. The blood he had given Zoro.

If Zoro nearly bled out again, Sanji would offer his blood again in a heartbeat. He couldn’t allow the stupid Marimo to get himself killed over such a trivial thing. That meant his blood was Zoro’s. He needed it, to keep him alive, and by extension, to keep Zoro alive. 

He had washed the knife that night and put it away. He used it to chop vegetables, to mince meat, to make salad, but something had changed. Instead of hearing a voice in the back of his mind telling him that if he angled his hand just a bit to the side, he’d be releasing his own pain, there was nothing. It was as though the knives were no longer taunting him, tempting him to make the first cut. 

Sanji wondered if Zoro had any idea how much he had affected him. 

He didn’t want Zoro to know about his weakness, even if he was certain he was getting over it. After all, that day at the Baratie, hadn’t he promised himself he wouldn’t cut again and then he had shed enough blood to make the kitchen look like the scene of a massacre. He didn’t want to crack, didn’t think he could handle it if Zoro asked him about it. 

How was he supposed to distract the Marimo so that he didn’t have a chance to ask him about his scars?

Sanji was certain he was healing. He was getting better and better with each passing day, like all his old wounds. Though they were still there, were closing up, stitches and memories being the only reminder of what had happened to him. How broken he had been. He didn’t want to take any steps back on his road to recovery, he _wanted_ to heal.

He didn’t want Zoro’s efforts to be in vain. He didn’t want to let the swordsman down, didn’t want him to worry about him, didn’t want to burden him with Sanji’s own personal, inner struggle against himself and his mind. It was so complicated that he didn’t even understand it himself, but he was getting there. He wanted to be someone Zoro was proud of, someone who Zoro could point out in a crowd and say with a big smile on his face, “That’s Sanji, my friend.” 

Friend.

The word seemed to cause him a bittersweet sadness. His stomach churned and clenched when he thought too much about it. The fact that Zoro even called them friends— or at least, Sanji hoped they were friends, especially after the dinner he had made him and the blood donation— was good enough, wasn’t it? That Zoro was friends with someone who was as broken as he was was a miracle. 

Sanji wasn’t stupid. Though he hadn't seen his reflection in months and avoided mirrors like a plague, he knew he was scarred. He was torn apart, he was damaged. Zoro was a little kid who found something broken and thought by using his superglue, he could fix everything. Sometimes he tried to make the pieces fit too harshly, sometimes he screwed up, sometimes it fell apart even worse, but he kept going, kept trying, certain he could make things right.

Zoro was his friend and that was more than he could ask for. Zoro was … Zoro was _nakama_ to him.

_“Nakama is like family. They’re closer than a friend, and sometimes you hate them, but you have to love them anyway, right? In the most platonic way possible, of course.”_

As Sanji lit up his umpteenth cigarette, watching the smoke swirl around him, he wondered whether “platonic” was the right word for it.

The door opened at that moment. Sanji turned to see Zoro standing in the doorway, kicking off his shoes. 

“Fucking damn lock,” he muttered, “fucking Mihawk for breaking my fucking arm!”

“Welcome back, Marimo.”

He had missed his vulgar mouth.

Zoro threw his keys. They landed on the floor. “Fuck,” he muttered. Sanji figured he had been aiming for the couch. He missed. By a lot. 

Zoro trudged towards the fallen keys, picked them up and put them on the coffee table before collapsing on the couch. “I hate hospitals,” he proclaimed. “Fucking nurses making a fuss over nothing.” He laid his head back and stared up at Sanji who looked down at the swordsman with a smirk on his face. “Where’s my coffee, Love Cook?”

“Coming right up,” Sanji told him, going into the kitchen.

_How to distract him?_

“Did you ever get to eat that cake?”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” That sounded natural, right?

“Well, Luffy ate most of it. It was rice cake, right?” The swordsman shrugged. “I wasn’t all that hungry. I was … distracted, I guess you could say.” He twisted his body to turn and look into the kitchen. “More importantly, where did you find that sword?”

“Just some sword shop.” _Casual Sanji. Be casual._ “I know you probably don’t need another sword, since you’ve already got three, but …” Sanji shrugged, pouring the coffee into a mug. “I don’t know, you can hang it somewhere or something, you don’t have to use it—”

“No, I will,” Zoro said. “I will.”

“But you fight three-sword style, right? You already have three swords—”

“Then I’ll put another one on display or something,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Yubashiri is getting kind of old anyway.”

“Where are your swords anyway?”

“Nami took them,” Zoro huffed. “Said I can't fight for a while so I shouldn't be tempted to use them while I’m still injured. Bitch.” Sanji could tell he didn’t mean it. 

The cook handed Zoro his mug. He watched Zoro drink it, his eyes closing, his chest rising and falling. “Fuck, I swear, you’re like some kind of mystical cook or something. It’s been so long since I’ve had something decent in my stomach.”

“Finish your coffee, then get in the kitchen.”

“Oi, I just got back from the hospital, don’t order me around!”

“What happened to hating hospitals? Don’t be baby, it’s not like you broke your legs,” Sanji teased.

“I may have.”

“You sound so indignant right now.”

“Do not.”

“Whatever, Marimo. When you’re done, get your ass over here. We’re baking a cake.”

  
“How do you bake with one arm? You said a cook’s hands are like, their most treasured possession, right? How do you expect me to do this with my dominant arm in a cast?”

“I’m going to teach you how to do things with one hand,” Sanji said with a shrug. “It’s not that hard.” 

“You told me I was lethal in the kitchen.”

“You are. I’m helping you fix that.”

“If I can’t cook with two arms, how am I supposed to do it with one?”

“You have no faith in me,” Sanji teased.

“You’re not even telling me what kind of cake this’ll be—”

“Castella cake,” Sanji informed him. “No chocolate whatsoever, I know how you don’t like it.” Sanji went to preheat the the oven at 160˚C and then got two loaf pans and parchment paper.  “I need you to take out the eggs right now, you have large eggs, right? They need to be at room temperature. If we leave them out for a while, they’ll get there,” he told Zoro. “Anyway, this is a pretty easy recipe. We just need sugar, bread flour, honey, warm water and the eggs. Even _you_ can’t screw this up,” he assured him. “After all, you managed to make _onigri_ , this is just a step up from it.”

“Remember that you're a cook and I’m a pedestrian, which means that what you call easy and what I call easy differ from each other.”

“Well, we can’t make rice cake, we’re almost out of rice. I need to go shopping soon for it. I’ll get the sugar and the flour, it’ll be too heavy for you to lift with one arm, and you can get the honey.”

Zoro mumbled under his breath how Sanji was underestimating him but he got the honey while Sanji put the sugar and flour onto the small island in the centre of Zoro’s kitchen. “Can you cut this paper?” he asked Zoro, pointing towards the parchment paper. “We need to line the pans with it.”

Zoro took a pair of scissors out of a drawer and rolled his eyes. “Of course I can fucking cut, I’m a swordsman, remember?” 

Watching Zoro cut parchment paper was an endlessly source of amusement for Sanji. He reminded Sanji of a young boy doing an art project alone for the first time, sticking out his tongue in concentration, his eyes completely focused. His efforts were not wasted, though Zoro’s hand shook a lot while cutting, the parchment fit perfectly into the pan. 

Sanji cut his parchment in about half the time it took Zoro.

“Show off.”

“Experienced,” Sanji corrected him. “Okay, I’ll get a sieve for the flour.”

“A what?” 

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He got the sieve from a cupboard and put it on the table before going back to get a measuring cup and a tablespoon.

“Oh you meant that bowl with all the holes!” 

Sanji sighed. He knew he should’ve chosen kitchen equipment as a category for their game in the hospital. He’d have won hands down. “Okay, I’ll pour the flour into this measuring cup,” Sanji said, gesturing towards it, “and you’ll hold it for me, okay?”

Zoro sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m doing all the boring parts?”

“Do _you_ could steadily pour precise amounts of baking ingredients with your non-dominant hand?”

Zoro pouted.

“I’ll let you crack the eggs if you want,” Sanji promised.  

Zoro’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas, before he quickly drew his line into a thin line, scoffing. His eyes were still shining though. “Whatever.”

Sanji lifted the bag of flour and started to pour it into the cup while Zoro held it steady. Sanji kept his eyes trained on the lines on the side of the cup. When it was full, he put the sieve above the bowl. “Alright so now, you’re going to pour that cup into the sieve and we’re going to sift it—”

“Uh, I think you mean shift,” Zoro said, sounding all confident about getting to correct Sanji in his area of expertise.

“ _Sift._ Not shift. Oh, don’t look so put out! Pour and I’ll sift.”

Zoro grumbled about how cooking made no sense to him, but he poured the flour in. Because the sieve was considerably larger than the cup, despite the fact that Zoro’s hand wobbled a lot, they didn’t lose any of the flour. Sanji shook the sieve gently, watching as the flour fell through the holes and the lumpy bits stayed put. He took the lumps that remained and poured them back into the cup. “I need you to pour it again, so that we’ll even everything out.”

Zoro did as told.

Once all the lumps were gone and in the bottom of the bowl, Sanji handed Zoro a tablespoon. “Okay, we need two and a half of tablespoons of the flour. Put it in the sieve, okay?”

“Can’t you just call it a strainer or something?”

“No,” Sanji told him firmly. “A strainer is a kind of sieve, but it’s not this kind, so that’d be a misnomer.”

“Greenland and Iceland are misnomers,” Zoro told him. “What does it matter what kind of shive it is?”

“It’s a _sieve_. Look, we just need two and a half tablespoons, alright? Even you can do that, can’t you?”

“Whatever Dart Brow,” Zoro mumbled, putting two tablespoons into the sieve before pausing and staring at the spoon strangely. “Um, Sanji?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s half a tablespoon?”

Sanji sighed and rolled his eyes. “Half a tablespoon is half a tablespoon. Just fill up half of it, okay?”

“But—”

“Seriously, Marimo?” Sanji asked. “What, are you not able to?”

Zoro gritted his teeth at him. “I can too!” 

“Prove it then.”

Zoro shoved his good arm into the bag of flour, coming up with what was definitely not half a tablespoon. 

“Idiot, that’s three quarters!”

“What are you, a math genius or something?” Zoro demanded. “Oh, I’m Super Sanji, I can look at amounts of baking ingredients and tell you exactly how much there is!”

“That sounds nothing like me.”

Zoro responded by flicking the contents of the spoon at Sanji, who, surprised, nearly dropped the sieve.

“You’re wasting food!” 

“Yeah well, you suck at teaching!”

“You’re just a horrible student!”

“Did you even go to school?”

“That’s none of your business! Half a tablespoon, alright?”

“Someone’s impatient,” Zoro muttered before he put what was as close to half a tablespoon as Zoro was ever going to get into the sieve. 

After sifting it as well, he got a smaller bowl. “Okay, we need five tablespoon of honey. You want to do it?”

“Since you won’t let me handle anything interesting, sure,” Zoro grumbled, but he was really bad at hiding his smile as he put the five tablespoons of honey into the small bowl. 

Sanji put in two and a half teaspoons of warm water (he didn’t trust Zoro with fractions anymore) and started stirring the concoction with a whisk. 

“You know, I …” Zoro trailed off and turned away. 

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.”

“No, you mentioned it now, so you have to tell me,” Sanji said. “Otherwise you should’ve just kept your mouth shut.”

“Well, I’m keeping it shut now!” Zoro snapped back, turning his back to him, but not before Sanji caught a blush creeping up on Zoro’s tanned cheeks. “Just mix the fucking stuff, alright?”

“You know that I now _have_ to get it out of you, right?” Sanji said, raising an eyebrow at him. “And I know your weakness too.”

Zoro stared at him with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Sanji smirked, blowing out his cigarette. “Try me.”

Zoro backed away from him slowly, pressing his back against the sink. 

 _Idiot, cornering yourself,_ Sanji thought, leaning over him. 

Zoro was taller than him, that he’d admit, but it was only by one centimetre and besides, Zoro seemed to be shrinking at the current moment.

“I … I could kick you in the balls if I wanted to.”

“But you won’t,” Sanji said confidently.

“Who says?”

“I did, remember?” Sanji teased. “Tell me.”

Zoro shook his head profusely. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Tough shit. Tell me or else.”

“Or else _what_? Running out of good threats?”

And then Sanji attacked.

His hands stretched out in front of him and his fingers began to run along Zoro’s sides. 

Almost immediately, Zoro starting to curl into himself, his laughter pouring out regardless of his fruitless efforts to stop it. He sunk to the floor, his head pressed up against the sink’s cabinet, Sanji following him, his fingers continuing their assault.

“S-stop!” he cried, tears appearing in his eyes as his hands went thrashing. “S-Sanji!”

“Nope,” Sanji teased, tickling him even harder. And then—

“FUCK!” 

Sanji’s back hit the small island as Zoro slithered out from under him and ran to the other side. “Ha!”

“You kicked me in the balls!”

“I warned you!”

Sanji winced, sucking in a breath between his teeth.

Zoro paused. “Does it really hurt?” he asked, looking at Sanji with a worried crease in his brow. “I didn’t mean to, it just … I don’t know, reflex.”

“For a swordsman who uses their hands, you kick fucking _hard_ ,” Sanji snapped. “What if I can’t reproduce now? That’ll be entirely on your conscience!”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Okay, now you’re just laying it on thick. Any sympathy I had for you is gone. Be a man, it wasn’t _that_ hard, I’ve taken worse. Namely from your legs, might I add. Man up!”

“Shut it,” Sanji snapped. ”I just sacrificed my bloodline and genetic make-up to learn what you were saying, so are you going to tell me?”

Zoro shook his head. “No way in hell!”

Sanji sighed dramtically. “Well, then I’m not doing anything till you tell me ...” He folded his arms and leaned against the sink, a triumphant smirk on his face. “I’m patient. I can wait.”

“Good, cause you’ll be waiting all day!”

Sanji knew Zoro. He was not patient. Not in the very least. 

To his credit, he lasted two minutes before he spoke again, but when he did, he was mumbling under his breath. Sanji smirked, knowing he had won. “What was that, Marimo?”

“I said …” 

“Pardon? You speaking French again?”

“I SAID I MISSED THIS, OKAY YOU FUCKING BASTARD?”

Sanji smirked. “I heard you the second time.”

“I reiterate, fucking bastard,” Zoro muttered. “Can we just continue now?”

“Reiterate,” Sanji repeated. “Big word for you, isn’t it, Marimo?”

“I _said_ can we continue?”

“Okay,” Sanji relented, deciding he had teased Zoro enough. He went back to the table and continued to mix the honey and water until they were done. “The eggs should be room temperature now, right?”

Zoro nodded. “So I put them in?”

“Well, you crack them first,” Sanji said. “Can’t eat egg shells, can you?”

“Idiot, that’s what I meant,” Zoro grumbled. He took a large egg from the carton and turned it over in his hand before cracking it on the edge of the table. The egg cracked and the yolk dripped down the side of the table.

“Zoro!” 

“What?”

Sanji sighed. “Less force. We need six eggs, this is a carton of twelve.” He took an egg from the carton and tapped it lightly against the rim of the bowl. There was a small dent in it and with that, Sanji spread his fingers across the egg and let the yolk fall into the bowl. “Like that. Be more gentle. Like … I dunno, like it’s your baby.”

“Why the fuck would I crack my baby’s head open?”

“Fine, that was a bad analogy,” Sanji admitted. “Just, don’t be so aggressive. You don’t need to use all your strength.”

Zoro sighed and took another egg. He cracked it on the side of the bowl like Sanji had done, but when he tried to open it over the bowl, the yolk seemed to seep out and coat his fingers. He threw the useless egg into the sink and growled under his breath. “Eggs are fucking stupid.”

“Just watch carefully, okay?” Sanji said, repeating his usual cracking of the egg.

When he was done and had thrown the shell away, he found Zoro was staring at him.

“What is it?”

Zoro reached out as though in a trance and took one of Sanji’s hands in his. He turned it over so the palm was facing upwards and ran his thumb over Sanji’s fingers. It was a very strange position to be in, especially considering Zoro was doing this all with one hand. He held Sanji’s, like a kid would hold a parent’s when crossing the street, but then he unlaced his fingers and let them trace over the light calluses on Sanji’s fingers. 

“They’re beautiful,” Zoro seemed to mutter under his breath.

Sanji’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Zoro’s thumb trace over his life line, his touch gentle and soft. It was true that both men had calluses, but Zoro’s had been earned through gripping his swords and fighting, while Sanji's were from holding the knives in the kitchen. Sanji’s were more subtle than Zoro’s, less obvious, smoother. 

“Zoro …”

“Hmm?” asked Zoro, his fingers continued to play with Sanji’s as though memorizing the surface of his skin. 

“The … the eggs,” Sanji said in a quiet voice. He didn’t want Zoro to stop, feeling his fingers in his was something indescribable he had never experienced before, but they had a cake to make, and if Zoro held Sanji’s hand any longer, the cook could not be held responsible for his actions. Plus, Zoro was getting yolk all over him. 

Zoro looked up as though realizing this for the first time and he instantly let go of Sanji’s hand. 

Sanji’s hand still felt warm but it was slowly disappearing as Zoro nodded and wiped his hand on his pants. “Right. That’s two eggs, we need four more?”

“Yeah.” He wondered if Zoro was as fazed as he was over what had just happened. The only indication was Zoro’s brief cough into his hand before he took another egg from the carton. 

Eight eggs were left.

Zoro hit it on the side of the bowl and pressed his thumb into the crack, letting the yolk leak out. He tried to separate the egg so the inside would come out, but he was probably scared of getting the shell in the mixture. Sanji sighed and using his hands, he held open the egg for him, the large yellow middle falling into the bowl with a _plop_. 

Sanji wondered if Zoro could feel his rapid heartbeat through his back. He hoped not. 

“Fuck this. It’s impossible.”

“You almost got it,” Sanji told him. “Besides, we just need three more. We’re half-way there.”

Zoro took another egg and cracked it against the rim. He tried to part it, but with only one hand, it was hard. 

“Here, let me help,” Sanji said, holding out his hands to help him, his head practically in Zoro’s neck as he peered over his shoulder. Zoro shivered and turned around quickly, his back pressed against the table with the egg still in his hands. 

Was he … trembling?

Sanji didn’t dare think too much about it, his hands resting on the table on either side of Zoro to steady himself. He didn’t understand what was happening, why his body seemed so sensitive at the moment, why he seemed so acutely aware of Zoro’s movements. He opened his eyes again and they landed on Zoro’s lips, which were slightly parted.

That first kiss … Sanji had nearly no time to register it, no time to react. He had been too shocked, too immobilized to do anything. But if he initiated it, maybe …?

He looked back up at Zoro whose eyes seemed downcast as well. 

Were they thinking the same thing? Maybe …

_CRACK!_

Sanji didn’t register it until after it happened. One second he was contemplating leaning closer and if he was right, Zoro had been moving closer too and the next, there was yolk in his eye.

Zoro had … Zoro had cracked an egg on his head.

“Roronoa Zoro, you’re going to regret the day you were born!” 

First a kick in the balls, now an egg on the head? Wiping the yolk away, he saw red in his fury. Forgetting about wasting ingredients, he grabbed what was left in the bag of flour into his fist and threw it in the swordsman face.

Zoro blinked, his face now looking white. He slipped out from under Sanji and backed away, an evil grin on his face. 

“Oh, it’s on!” He took a spoon from the table and put it in the honey.

“No!” He was wearing a nice blazer! This one was his favourite.

“Try me!”

“This isn’t fair!” Sanji snapped. “You’ve already kicked me in the balls _and_ gotten me full of yolk. You can’t do anymore damage! I still need to retaliate one more time. If you get me covered in honey, then it becomes a war!”

“Becomes war?” Zoro echoed thoughtfully. He grinned wickedly. “It’s _already_ war!”  With that, he threw his hand back and flung the honey at Sanji.

Sanji ducked and snuck to the sink. He turned on the tap, his fingers moving quickly and agilely as he had been taught from his years in the kitchen. The tap acted like a shower head, able to extend off the sink and Sanji planned on using it. Using the tap like a hose, he sprayed Zoro from across the table with cold water.

“Hey! I’m injured!”

“Should’ve thought of that before you declared war!”

Zoro grabbed the sieve as though that could protect him, using it as a shield. It was a wobbly shield anyway, being held up by only one hand the weight was uneven. “Fuck, why does this thing have holes?” 

Grabbing an egg from the carton, Sanji threw it at Zoro. Despite ducking, it landed in the swordsman’s hair anyway.

“Fuck you!” Zoro yelled at him, but the laughter was clear in his eyes. He grabbed the sugar bag and dumped it on Sanji’s head. 

The blond coughed, unable to see until the majority of the sugar had been emptied and was placed back on the table. When his vision cleared, he could see Zoro who was staring at him triumphantly, as though he had won a great battle. “Stop gloating, Marimo.” His coughing fit interrupted the death glare he was sending him.

“I’m not gloating.”

“Not aloud you’re not, but I can hear your thoughts. They’re obnoxious.”

Now that the high of the fight was gone, he realized what a mess had been made and he had cleaned the kitchen twice already! Twice! It was such a waste of food …

Sanji stared at his hand, turning it over. His cigarette was ruined, so he threw it out. His blazer would need a thorough cleaning if he wanted to wear it again. Deciding he had no choice, he licked his index finger, cringing at the amount of sugar. It was too sweet, but he couldn’t let the food go to waste. His morals wouldn’t accept that.

Zoro stared at him as Sanji started sucking on his finger, wrapping his tongue around it, trying to get all the sugar off. May as well salvage what he could, right? When it was clean, he started sucking on his middle finger as well and winced. It really was too sweet.

“S-Sanji …”

Zoro was gaping at him, like an idiot.

“What are you looking at, Marimo?” he asked, sticking a third finger into his mouth.

Zoro’s mouth closed and he licked his lips slowly. Sanji stopped sucking, watching the way Zoro’s tongue traced his lips, slowly before returning back to his mouth. God, what was this feeling? His pants felt too tight and the look in Zoro’s eyes were making them tighter.

Oh fuck, was he getting turned on by the moss-headed swordsman?

He watched Zoro carefully, the way he tried to turn away, his hand fidgeting, but kept watching Sanji, like it was impossible to tear his gaze away. He was flustered. Sanji smirked. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one suffering. He took the three fingers out of his mouth and licked up his palm slowly, maintaining eye-contact the entire time.

Zoro’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Sanji licked his lips. It was sweet, _too_ sweet. And this felt like sweet, sweet torture, strangely fitting. He kept his eyes on Zoro, watching for a reaction. Was he overstepping his boundaries? What if the swordsman was only this way because of the tension that hung in the air? If he read into it and it turned out to be something different, Sanji wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

Still …

He took a step closer to Zoro, who backed up instinctively. 

“You’ve made a mess,” he chided.

Zoro was gripping the table as though it were his lifeline, and from the way his eyes dropped down to Sanji’s lips, were they on the same page? Could he maybe … just one more time? 

Sanji leaned closer still, his hands going on either side of Zoro, trapping him for the thousandth time that day. “Zoro.” His voice had turned hoarse and husky. He took one of his hands off the counter, instead lacing it between Zoro’s fingers, revelling in the warmth of the contact. Zoro seemed like he was coming closer too and if Sanji tilted his had just a little—

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

The oven. 

There was smoke coming from the oven. 

He untangled himself from Zoro and opened the oven. 

“Open the windows and fan the smoke alarm,” Sanji instructed, turning off the oven and lighting up another cigarette. Zoro just stood there, dumbfounded. “ _Go_!”

Immediately, Zoro sprinted away to open the windows.

Sanji fell back, leaning against the stove and sighed. 

So close … _so fucking close._

Had the smoke alarm not gone off, would they have …?

Sanji shook his head. No, just because he was starting to open himself up to the idea of liking Zoro like _that_ , didn’t mean he felt the same. But at the very least he had learnt that Zoro found him sexually attractive. The bulge in his pants had been proof enough.

Sanji could barely handle an emotional relationship, would he really be able to handle something that was purely physical? Was he reading too much into it? What if Zoro had only been caught up in the moment?

 _Of course,_ Sanji mused to himself. _When I finally let someone in, it’s a fucking green-haired Marimo who probably has Florence Nightingale syndrome._

Watching Zoro as he ate Sanji’s food, Sanji closed his eyes and hoped just maybe, maybe there was something else there.


	21. Defending His Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Domestic abuse  
> References to past rape and physical abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece. Also, if you want (don't know why I didn't mention this earlier), you can reach me at my tumblr, which is the same as my screenanme, just look up "setkia" on Tumblr and it's the first blog. I love chatting with readers, and besides time-zone problems or conflicting stuff, I'm always down to talk.

It was when December started that Zoro’s arm finally healed.

Three painful weeks without holding a sword, especially after getting a new one from Sanji, and the first thing Zoro wanted to do was fight. 

“Are you sure?” Sanji asked him, obviously concerned.

“I’m fully healed, don’t treat me like a fucking doll,” Zoro warned. “And I haven’t trained in forever. Fight me, or are you scared, Cook?”

Sanji smirked. “You got your swords back from Nami?”

Zoro scoffed and pulled out his swords. “You think I’d challenge you without my babies?”

“Well, I know, but I mean … you’re actually using it?”

Zoro turned the dark blade over in his hand. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you did.” There was something soft about his tone of voice. Zoro decided not to think too much about it.

“So are you gonna stop stalling so that we can start fighting? Don’t even think about going easy on me, or else I’ll whip your ass to China.”

“Only to China?”

The tension that hung in the air was so thick and suffocating. Zoro _loved_ it. He hadn’t realized how much he missed fighting with Sanji until he started again. 

He lunged forward and swung with both swords. The balance of the new blade was perfect in his hand and watching the dark sword as it slashed made him feel prideful. Sanji had chosen well. 

Sanji stepped back before the swords could strike him. He lifted his foot and forcefully kicked at Zoro’s face. He ducked. He was slightly rusty, but the adrenalin rushing through his veins was more than welcome as he dodged another attack from Sanji before he took three steps and made three slashes at him. Sanji tried to dodge them all, but he was nicked by a blade in the shoulder.

Zoro stopped and stepped back, taking Wado out of his mouth.

“What, are you feeling bad for me, shitty swordsman?”

“You’re going easy on me,” Zoro accused. “I told you I want to fight!”

“I’m not going easy,” Sanji snapped. “I haven’t sparred in a while myself!”

Zoro blinked.

“What?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “With my sparring partner MIA, I couldn’t do much else.”

Sanji … had waited? He went three weeks without fighting anyone while Zoro recovered? He had let himself get rusty, lazing around doing nothing while Zoro struggled with showering with one hand, until the green-haired man was prepared to fight again?

_But … why?_

“Bastard!” Zoro snapped, going to attack Sanji again. 

Now that Sanji had mentioned it, his moves were off. He was quick to respond, but he second-guessed himself, leading to several close calls. But Sanji knew him, he knew how Zoro fought, he knew all of Zoro’s moves. There were only so many moves you could pull before your opponent stopped being surprised. Was he really that rusty, that he was so unprepared?

Sanji kicked Zoro in the chest and pushed him back, his bare feet skidding against the cold wood floor. He raised his swords above his head and slashed down when Sanji went in for the “kill”. His swords almost got him, but then Sanji dropped to the ground, putting his hands on the floor and making a clean sweep of his foot, wrapping it around Zoro’s ankle, forcing him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

“I’m just warming up,” Sanji told Zoro with a smirk. He lit a cigarette. “Were you always this easy to beat?” 

“Shitty bastard.”

Sanji held out a hand and Zoro took it. As soon as he was on his feet, he used Wado to cut at Sanji’s shoulders. The cook took a step back, barely missing the blade. “What was that, Dart Brow?” he teased.

Fighting Sanji was a rush that Zoro had nearly forgotten. He didn’t know how he had gone so long without it. It was almost like he was fighting _Her_ again. Except Sanji was better than Her. Maybe he couldn’t handle swords and he’d never beat Zoro 2001 times, but that was the _point_. That’s what made Sanji so great. Zoro didn’t feel like he was in over his head when he fought him, he was evenly matched. It wasn’t a battle of pride and dignity, it was a fight between friends, a warm-up, playful sparring. And while She had been his goal, what he had pushed himself to be, Sanji was better for him because he didn’t hold back and Zoro could still fight. 

Zoro would _never_ forget Her, it was impossible to forget your first love. 

He was grateful towards Her, for making him work so hard, for making him reach so far, for giving him the drive and determination to get better. She was part of what made him the man he was today. She was his passion, his soul. 

In the beginning, whenever he looked at Sanji, he saw Her. He saw everything he hadn’t seen the first time around, and he knew he had to catch him. Sanji made it easier. Thinking about Her didn’t hurt as much anymore. All he could do was swell with pride when he fought with him, thinking about how much She would’ve loved him, how much She would’ve fought with him.

Sanji almost made it painless to think about Her. He couldn’t thank him enough for that.

When they both collapsed from exhaustion and he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, he felt alone.

When he fought Sanji, it was like they were dancing. They were graceful, careful and routined. It was beautiful, really. When they fought, they held nothing back and Zoro was ever-grateful for it. Sanji let it all go in the heat of the moment. He felt as though he and Sanji were closer to each other than they could ever be when they were like that. But when it was over, the floor was still cold and the apartment felt empty.

Because for the past while, Sanji had been pulling back. He hadn’t been as forward as usual, he had been distracted. As if Zoro wouldn’t notice his terrible distraction tactics.

Nami had said something about the scars. About new ones. Were there any new ones now? He wanted to ask, but he knew that if he did, Sanji would never answer. Was  _that_ what he didn’t want Zoro to know? He didn’t want to talk to Zoro about the scars?

He rolled onto his side to see Sanji, still staring up at the ceiling, a satisfied grin on his face.

_What are you hiding? What are your secrets?_

Zoro needed answers and as much as he hated to admit it, he was pretty sure he knew the only place he could go to get them.

* * *

Walking into the Baratie again after so long away made him feel sick.

Sure, Zoro had great memories of this place. The first time he had met the bastard cook and tried sushi for the first time. He remembered Sanji’s satisfied smirk whenever he watched Zoro eat his meals. He remembered the playful banter they had.

But he remembered the bad things too.

He remembered the way Sanji walked like he was on glass around the place, how he calculated his every move to avoid everyone. The way he would fake a smile or a laugh, the way Zoro would sit in his chair, begging to ask him a question, to know if he was okay, but knowing if he said even a word about the blond’s injuries, he’d be kicked out in a second. He remembered the look on Sanji’s face when he had been hit, the look on Sanji’s face when he had kicked Zoro. The bastard’s curling, lopsided, twisted, maniacal grin when Zoro came into the kitchen. 

Did anyone else know about the secret of the Baratie? Was he the only one? 

Just as he was trying to figure out a way around the receptionist, his eyes connected with a pretty blonde woman who looked vaguely familiar.

She leaned next to the man she was sitting with, who frowned. The two appeared to argue briefly, and then she was standing up, walking over, ignoring the man calling her name.

The blonde gave a smile to the receptionist. “He’s with me,” she said.

“Wait, who the—”

“Come with me, Mr. Roronoa.” He saw through her fake smile faster than he had seen through Sanji’s.

Zoro could do nothing as the woman dragged him towards the back of the restaurant into a small hallway that lead to the restrooms. He pulled his arm out of her grasp, snarling. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“You have to be quiet,” she told him, “please, we can’t be discovered.”

“How the fuck do you know me?” Zoro demanded, lowering his voice slightly. He needed answers, he couldn’t get kicked out just yet. “Do I even know you?”

“I’m Moodie,” the woman introduced. “You’re a friend of Sanji’s, right? I’ve seen you here before, he used to wait on you.”

“How do you know Sanji?”

“I’ve known Sanji for quite some time. You’re Roronoa Zoro, right?”

“That’s wonderful, you haven’t answered my question. How do you know him?”

“He’s …” Moodie bit her lip. “Our relationship’s complicated. He’s … he’s my saviour.”

“Your saviour?”

“In a sense, yes,” Moodie said. “It’s complicated and far too personal for me to explain to you, but let’s just say that he’s my light in the dark. I haven’t seen Sanji in nearly a month. You know where he is, don’t you?”

Sure, Zoro knew where Sanji was. Sanji was at the apartment, flipping through taped episodes of _Bleach_ , wondering why Zoro had decided to go out all of a sudden. But he wasn’t going to tell Moodie that. “What makes you think I know?” How could he trust her? He didn’t know a thing about her. 

 _Wait, a month ago …_ Sanji had been with Zoro, hadn't he? 

“What do you mean he was here a month ago?”

“Yes, he stopped by for a bit.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure, it was just some day—”

“ _When_?” Zoro pressed harder. When had Sanji come back to the Baratie without Zoro knowing? _Fuck. The cigarettes._ “What happened?” he demanded. “ _What happened when he was here?”_

Moodie’s eyes widened, trembling. “He … He came in for a while and spoke to me for a bit,” she said. “And … and when he was going to leave …” She trailed off, like the memory hurt her.

“Tell me,” Zoro urged.

“There was a man with a hairnet,” said Moodie slowly. “He … he started a fight …”

_Hairnet?_

_“_ Was the man wearing a name-tage? Was his name Patty?”

Moodie turned away.

“Tell me Moodie, _was his name Patty_?”

She nodded.

“Fuck!” Zoro ran his fingers through his hair. “What happened? With Patty and Sanji?”

Her lower lip was trembling. She was worried. “Is … is Sanji okay?”

“No, he’s not fucking okay!” Zoro snapped at her. 

Rationally, he knew it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know, and he could hardly blame her for not knowing; Sanji was so closed off all the time. But how had she never figured it out? Did no one pay attention to Sanji? Zoro knew in an instant, and yet this woman, who called Sanji her saviour, hadn’t had any clue about what was happening to him. He tried not to think about how much less Sanji would’ve had to suffer if someone, _anyone_ had taken notice sooner. 

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you, but Sanji’s … Sanji’s suffering.” Her brown eyes were large and innocent, begging to know, but it wasn’t his story to tell and he had to respect that. Part of him wanted to tell her, just to terrify her, let her know that she should’ve done something, when her “saviour” had been suffering right in front of her all this time. But he couldn’t do that to her. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Patty … Patty hit him,” replied Moodie softly. “He hit him and then he … he started telling him things. He mentioned your name and then he … he accused Sanji of being gay …”

_Shit, she’s crying._

“How … how long has this been happening? Am I blind?” She sniffled. “How long has he … how long has he been in this pain?”

Zoro awkwardly wrapped an arm around her, holding her close and petting her head. It felt weird and her tears were beginning to seep into his shirt.

It was a while before she spoke again, sniffling. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?” Zoro asked, pulling her away from him slightly. 

“I … I talked to him about us,” she said softly. “Alluded to a possibility …” She shook her head. “It was stupid. You take better care of him than I ever could. I didn’t even know he needed to be taken care of,” she added mournfully. “You’re a great man.” Her smile was bittersweet and broken, but so, _so_ genuine. “Sanji’s lucky.”

She couldn’t be implying … Sanji didn’t … he didn’t like Zoro like that, right? 

_He accused Sanji of being gay._

Did that mean …?

_No, don’t be stupid._

“I need you to do something for me,” Zoro told her. “I know you’re probably feeling really shitty right now, but I need you to promise me something.”

As Moodie looked up at him through her teary eyelashes, it hit him.

He didn’t find her pretty.

She _was_ pretty. Her frame was slim, and her hair was long and beautiful, her eyes were deep and held something precious in them that he couldn't describe, but he didn’t feel a pull towards her. She didn’t make his heart beat any faster, didn’t make him feel like his breath was caught in his throat. He couldn’t describe it, but there was something about her that turned him off and it wasn’t the smeared make-up. 

_Am I really gay? Am I just noticing this now? Did everyone know before me?_

“Is something wrong?”

Zoro shook his head, coming back to reality. “I know it’s going to be hard, but I don’t want you telling anyone about this. It’s Sanji’s choice who he’s going to tell about this, not mine. I’ve already told you too much, you can’t tell anyone about it.”

“But—”

“Promise me,” Zoro cut her off. “If not for me, for Sanji. He wouldn’t want others to know. Not like this.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I won’t tell.”

“What won’t you tell?”

Zoro and Moodie turned around at the sound of a third person’s voice. It was that man she had been sitting with, the one with the pink, lavender-like hair. He frowned. 

“Who are you?”

“Fullbody,” replied the man. “ _Lieutenant_ Fullbody to you,” he added. He turned to Moodie. “We’re engaged and you’re seeing someone behind my back? First that shit waiter and now this guy? You’re such a fucking slut!”

_SMACK!_

The next thing Zoro knew, he was pulling back his fist from hitting Fullbody in the face. It felt good to punch with his left hand again.

Fullbody held his nose. Zoro was pretty sure was broken. “The _fuck_ , asshole? You trying to pick a fight with me? I’m a lieutenant!”

“So I’ve heard,” Zoro drawled. “You say you’re engaged? Treat your fiancée with more respect, bastard! And if you had any common sense, you’d know that—”

“It’s okay,” Moodie said, putting a hand on Zoro’s chest. “I can handle this.” She took a shaky breath, closing her eyes and when she opened them again, there was a fire that burned so bright, he wondered how it was contained in someone as small and petite as her. 

“I’m a strong and independent woman, I’m not your trophy to be put on display. I’m more than the sum of my parts. Just because I am beautiful, does not mean I am ignorant. I’m not going to settle for a bastard like you. I’m going to speak to Father, by the time this night is over, you and I will no longer have any relations to each other.”

“What the fuck? Strong and independent woman?” Fullbody repeated. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You need me, you’re nothing without me! _I’m_ the one with the influence, _I’m_ the one with the money, you have _nothing_ without me!”

“Maybe,” Moodie agreed, “but I'd rather have nothing on my own than everything with you.”

“Fucking bitch! I don’t know where all this independence crap is coming from, but you’d better stop this rebellious phase right now, you whore! You’re going to marry me and that’s that!” He raised his hand forcefully to strike her but Zoro caught his hand, squeezing, but not interfering. This was Moodie’s battle, but if the bastard thought he could get his way by slapping her around, he was dead wrong.

“It’s not a phase Fullbody,” she said, sending a grateful look in Zoro’s direction. “And I’m not under your thumb anymore. I don’t need you, and I will not marry for anything other than love.”

“Love?” Fullbody spat. “I hate to break it to you sweetheart,” the way he said sweetheart sent shivers down Zoro’s spine, “but that’s not the way the world works. Politics, money, government, that's what matters. Pride and dignity get you nowhere. Who marries for love?”

“I’m not going to be intimidated by you anymore—”

“So what? You’re not going to listen to me anymore? Going to pack your bags and leave out the front door? You think people are going to be sympathetic towards you? You think you’re going to get anywhere after what you’ve done to me?” he snarled. “Your idealism will get you nowhere, life doesn’t work that way!”

“It isn’t idealism! Someone once told me that if I don’t like the way things are, then I change them. I change them until things _are_ the way I want them to be and I’m finally taking their good advice,” she said. “I’m ridding myself of you, _I don’t need you_!”

Fullbody let out a hollow laugh. “Is that so?”

Moodie nodded. “Yes.” Her voice didn’t waver, but Zoro could see her shaking hands. She was terrified. “Now leave me alone, Fullbody. I’m done with you.”

“You’re done with me?” demanded Fullbody. “No, you can’t be done with me, I own you! I _own_ you and I want a full refund! Done with me? Fuck that! I’m done with _you_!”

 _BANG_!

Zoro pressed his elbow underneath Fullbody’s chin, pinning him against the wall. “You heard the lady. Leave her alone. Or are you fucking deaf?” 

Fullbody tried to push Zoro off of him, but it was fruitless.

“I would kill you right now,” Zoro whispered in his ear, making sure Moodie couldn’t hear him. “But there’s a lady present and I don’t want her to see that. So let’s make a deal, hmm? You’re going to leave here and you won’t be coming back, not in this life-time, not in the next. We won’t speak of this incident and any money you may want to bring to court, keep it in your pocket, understood? Otherwise I _will_ kill you. And it’ll be my pleasure,” Zoro promised.

“You’ll go to jail for manslaughter,” Fullbody said in between gasps. “The great Roronoa Zoro in prison, ha! The media would have a field day with that one.”

“Does it look like I fucking care?” 

With a forceful push of his elbow, Fullbody’s head hit the wall and his nose started to bleed horribly. He fell to the floor, glaring up at Zoro, holding his nose in pain. 

“Besides,” Zoro added, “they already know me there. It wouldn’t be anything new.” He picked the man up by the front of his shirt. “Now scram.”

He had never seen a man run faster.

“You … you didn’t have to do that,” said Moodie once he was gone. She was still struggling to catch her breath.

“Don't talk,” Zoro told her. “I don’t think your body can handle it.”

She shook her head. “You said your name’s Zoro, right? Roronoa Zoro.”

“Yeah,” Zoro said slowly. “So what?”

“Do you know the story of Zorro?”

“Zorro?”

“Two Rs,” she elaborated. “A Spanish swordsman who defended commoners with his sword and a mask. You were named well.” 

“I don’t think I’d go that far—”

“Sanji’s lucky.”

Zoro decided to drop the subject. “Are you okay?” 

“I think so.” Moodie’s legs trembled with each step she took. He took her arm and guided her back into the main dining room. He stopped when he saw Fullbody talking to someone with a hairnet. 

_Patty._

“Are you okay if I leave you here?” asked Zoro in a slightly distracted tone. He gestured towards a seat, “Sit. You should rest.”

Once he made sure she was okay, Zoro raced over to Patty and Fullbody.

Patty saw him and his face split into a malicious grin. “Roronoa, it seems like you’re back. Didn’t think you’d show your face here again.”

“I was actually looking for you,” Zoro told him. “How much money did it take to keep the fight out of the press?”

Patty’s smirk fell. “Where’d you hear about it?”

“My sources will remain anonymous.” He didn’t want to drag Moodie down with him. “How about you and I have a fight? One on one, _hombre_ to _hombre._ ”

“Oh yeah?” asked Patty. “What can a wooden sword do?”

“I don’t fight cheap bastards like you with wooden swords,” Zoro told him. “Fight me. Five minutes, outside the Baratie. Or are you chicken?”

“Chicken?” Patty repeated. “The only chicken I have is cooked and grilled,” he sneered. “Fine, five minutes. Be prepared to die.”

There was a voice in the back of his mind telling him he was being irrational, that he was going to land himself in the hospital and then Sanji would have to donate blood, but he pushed it aside. The bastard in the hairnet was the cause of Sanji’s pain and suffering. He wouldn’t let him get away.

He was out for blood.

* * *

Seeing Patty come out of the Baratie, cracking his knuckles with a smirk on his face only fuelled Zoro’s anger.

“Upset I got my hands on your precious slut?”

“Sanji isn’t a slut!”

“You sure? Cause he was sucking me in like—”

_SHINK!_

Zoro’s swords came down, cutting Patty’s arm. A cook’s hands are their treasure after all, weren’t they?

“Roronoa’s upset, isn’t he? Your little play thing’s quite amusing, isn’t he? You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Blondie’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

Zoro froze, giving Patty an opportunity to hit him in the face.

“In … in love?” 

It was bait, he knew it. But what if it wasn’t? What if Sanji felt even a fraction of what he was? Had he felt it in the kitchen too, the hot, heavy atmosphere that had made him dizzy? He was certain he would’ve kissed him again in the kitchen if that damn oven hadn't gone off.

“The little faggot’s crazy for you, can’t you tell?”

“Sanji isn’t like that!” Zoro tightened his grip on his swords. He had enough of talking. He slashed at Patty, aiming for any and all vital organs. His movements had no rhyme or reason to them, but Patty was still being wounded, he was still bleeding and that’s all Zoro cared about.

“Fucking slut probably loves it,” said Patty, despite the blood that was beginning to get into his eye. “You’re so rough. You like that in bed, eh, Roronoa? Do you tie him up and make him beg?” he demanded. “The whore probably loves it. Spankings always got him hot and bothered.”

“Fuck you!” 

He wanted Patty to bleed, he wanted him to feel everything Sanji had ever felt. He wanted him to feel hopeless and worthless, make him regret being born. The scumbag deserved it, he fucking deserved it!

“Hey Carne,” Patty leered to the other cook, who stood to the side, watching the spectacle. “You remember when he bled? Fuck, was that hot, dirtying the floor with his blood. His ass bled so much, you’d think he was a fucking virgin.” He smirked and looked Zoro straight in the eyes. “But I bet you popped that cherry a long time ago, didn’t you?”

 _Virginity?_ Those bastards took Sanji’s—

_SMACK!_

_BANG!_

_SLAM!_

Zoro backed away, breathing harshly. His knuckles were white, his vision was red, his world was spinning. The blood that stained his clothes didn’t matter, neither did the way those bastards were smirking at him. 

He picked himself up off the ground, and sheathed his swords.

The silence was broken by the slamming of Zoro’s car door. 

He had to get back to Sanji.

Right now.

* * *

“Welcome ba—”

Zoro cut Sanji off, wrapping his arms around the blond tightly, holding him to his chest possessively.

He wanted to cry. Zoro could admit it, right now he wanted to cry. He wanted to take all of Sanji’s pain and feel it for him, no matter how fucking sappy it sounded. He didn’t want the cook to hurt, never again. Not after what he had been through.

“Zoro—”

“Don’t talk. Just … just let me hold you.”

Zoro knew he didn’t know everything yet. He didn’t know the whole story, he didn’t know everything those bastards had done to Sanji, _his_ Sanji. Fuck if he was sounding possessive, he didn’t care, not right now. He just wanted to hold him. He wanted Sanji to know that there was someone there, someone who _cared_.

Moodie had known Sanji for so long and he had never told her anything. Sanji had to know he could tell Zoro. Zoro would listen, to every fucking word.

The tears escaped his eyes, falling slowly. He licked his lips, the bittersweet taste dancing on his tongue. He bit his lip so Sanji couldn’t hear him, but he was sure Sanji knew. He didn’t care. It wasn’t weakness, it would never be weakness to cry in front of him. 

Because he was Sanji.

All the pain, all the suffering Sanji never let anyone know … No one should have to go through that alone. It hurt him to know that he was so good at hiding it, at pretending it never existed. It must have taken years of practice to master it. 

He held Sanji closer, trying to control his breathing, the smell of nicotine surrounding him, the smell of spices and sweets, the smell of _Sanji_. He let them envelop him, devour him whole.

_“Je t’aime, salaud. Et tu ne sache même pas. Et tu ne sauras jamais.”_

And Zoro cried harder, clinging to Sanji, treasuring the moment with everything he had as the tears fell faster at the truth of the statement. 

He wouldn’t tell, he would _never_ tell. 

His lips were sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I don't translate the French, sometimes I do. Because of the intensity of the scene, I decided not to translate it.


	22. Constant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Sanji's entire fucking backstory is dark guys, so basically everything  
> Rape  
> Self-harm  
> Physical abuse and emotional abuse  
> Bullying  
> BASICALLY EVERYTHING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own One Piece.

****Sanji had only one thought going through his mind as Zoro hugged him:

_He knows._

He had to know. There was no other explanation for his behaviour. He had gone to the Baratie, and found out, because what other reason did he have to hold him so tightly? So tenderly?

He felt numb in Zoro’s arms. He couldn’t even enjoy it, despite knowing this would probably never happen again. 

If Zoro knew, this was pity. 

The reason he liked Zoro was because he had never been sympathetic, never treated him with pity. He didn't look at him like he was a wounded animal, he looked at him like he was strong, a wounded soldier who would get back up the second his ribs healed.

Sanji didn’t think he could handle Zoro’s pity.

The swordsman’s grip on him tightened and Sanji, not wanting to let the man he had come to appreciate and respect in so many ways go, tightened his own grip in return. If this was the end of it, he wanted to brace himself. 

He wanted to be prepared but he knew deep down, he’d never be prepared for this.

Sanji didn’t know how long they stood like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace. He knew Zoro was the one who finally pulled away. Was the reluctancy actually there or was Sanji dreaming? 

Zoro turned away, wiping the tears from his eyes, as if he didn’t want Sanji to know he had been crying. Sanji saw anyway.

“I … I went to the Baratie.”

He knew it.

Zoro was probably disgusted in him. _Sanji_ was disgusted in himself. He was going to throw him out. If not, he’d treat him like a wounded puppy. Sanji wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Sit.”

Sanji’s eyes opened in surprise.

“Pardon?”

Zoro gave him a sad smile. “Sit down. I want to talk to you. I want you to tell me the truth. The _whole_ truth.”

“And if I’m not ready?”

“That’s okay,” Zoro said. “We can do it later. But I want you to try.”

Oh yes. This hurt. This hurt a lot.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You’re never going to _want_ to. It’s not about wanting to, it’s about being ready. And you’re never going to be ready if you never try.”

“I …”

Maybe, if he kept his mouth shut, he could keep Zoro. 

If Zoro didn’t know the whole truth, then maybe he could salvage this relationship, this sweet relationship that left him wondering if he was dreaming, the relationship that made him feel like he was on cloud nine, while at the same time, made him feel like he was being slowly tortured. 

Sanji sat down, his hands shaking. He didn’t know what to say, what to tell Zoro.

Zoro gave him his space, sitting across from him, making sure they weren’t touching. 

_No. Touch me. I’m okay if it’s you._

 “I want you to talk to me,” the green-haired man said softly. “I want you to tell me your past, the truth. I’m not going to force you. You can tell me however much you feel comfortable with. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to censor yourself, or hold back. I don’t care what you think I’ll think of you, I swear I won’t.” He hesitantly reached out and took Sanji’s trembling hand in his. If anything, it made him shake even more. “You can trust me Sanji. I swear.”

Sanji took a deep breath and stared into Zoro’s grey eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked in a voice that made him feel so small and insignificant.

“If you’re ready to tell me, if you want to tell me, you can. It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or any time soon, but I want you to know that I’m _here for you_. And I’m not going anywhere. The offer is there.”

Sanji swallowed. He had to get it out before he lost his nerve.

“I’m ready.”

Zoro gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Do you want to hold my hand while you tell me?” There was no hint of teasing in his voice. 

Sanji bit his lip. “Maybe.”

Zoro let out a soft chuckle and Sanji flinched. 

_He’s going to let go, he’s disgusted to touch me, he’s doing this for me, he’s doing it because he thinks he has to, I’m making him uncomfortable, I—_

Zoro tightened his grip, stopping the blond from pulling his hand away. “Talk to me, Sanji.”

“Where … where do you want me to start?”

“Wherever you feel comfortable.”

Sanji gulped. “Okay.” 

“Take your time,” Zoro said softly. “I’m patient.”

And Sanji knew just this once, the swordsman would be.

  
_When I was four, my parents were killed in a car accident._

_I was at home with the babysitter at the time. The memory’s pretty vague to me. It was a drunk driver, nothing special. They wanted to put me into an orphanage because there were no blood-relative my parents were close to, or whom they entrusted me in the care of, but the babysitter, I think her name was Sakura … she wanted to keep me. Said I was a good kid or something but since she was underage at the time— seventeen— they told her she wasn’t permitted to look after a child._

_I remember the first day I got there. They introduced me to everyone and there was this little kid, I don’t remember his name, but I remember the first thing he ever said to me._

_“Who’s the shrimp?”_

_I was taller than him, but that hardly mattered._

_You know how it’s like, don’t you? When you get picked on by one person and then that makes it okay for everyone to pick on you? That’s what ended up happening to me. They laughed at me a lot, calling me “short” and other stupid things that now that I think about it, didn’t mean a damn thing in the grand scheme of things, but you know what it’s like when you’re young. Everyone’s approval matters to you._

_The orphanage had a tight budget and didn’t make that much money. It was kind of hanging on a thread, a dump really. They didn’t have enough food for everyone, so they just kind of improvised and it became a “first come, first serve” sort of thing. I thought that if I shared my food with the kids when they were hungry, they might like me more. Maybe someday someone would offer me some of their lunch too, that’s what I thought. Stupid of me, really._

_It never happened._

_The kids saw me as an easy target. I wasn’t that smart, I wasn’t sly, I wasn’t good at making friends either._

_I went without food a lot. By the time I realized I might starve to death at the rate I was going at, they had already figured out a way to keep me quiet. It wasn’t like it mattered, I couldn’t tell the grown-ups about it because they didn’t care. I’m just one kid amongst many others who were malnourished. I wasn’t all that important._

_So I got desperate. I tried breaking into the kitchen._

_I worked out a whole plan and the first time I executed it properly, I couldn’t even feel proud of myself, I was running off of survival instinct. There wasn’t any time for pride over stupid little self-accomplishments._

_It was late at night when I got into the kitchen. The kids were sleeping, so the cooks had to be too. It was quiet. Everything was so big, and the counters were too high for me. I thought that every step I took would give me away._

_I couldn’t reach anything on shelves, so I went to get an orange from the fridge. It was small, easy to carry, and the fridge didn’t make much of a noise. I thought I was safe._

_That’s when Zeff caught me._

  
“Zeff?” Zoro repeated. “I think you mentioned him before.”

“Yeah, I did,” Sanji agreed, his hand clenching tighter onto Zoro’s. If Zoro was in pain from his grip, he didn’t mention it.

“Continue. I’m listening,” he promised.

Sanji took a deep breath and continued.

  
_He’s this big man with a crazy long moustache with a ridiculously tall chef hat. He wanted to know what a runt like me was doing in the kitchen. I told him that I just wanted a snack and he told me it was too late for a snack._

_I didn’t say anything, I just stared at the floor._

_Zeff lowered himself down to my eye-level. “You’re the eggplant, right?” he asked me._

_“Who are you calling ‘eggplant’, old geezer?”_

_“You’re the one they keep stealing from.”_

_“It’s not stealing if I offer.”_

_“Then you’re stupid.”_

_I want to hit him, and for a second, I really considered doing it. I knew he was going to tell on me, that I’d get in trouble._

_I still don’t know why, but he never did tell on me._

_“Give a man a fish, he eats for a night; teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime. Know what that means, Eggplant?”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“It means,” Zeff said, ignoring my question, “that if you give someone food, they’re dependent and can’t do anything without that person, but if you teach someone how to do something, they can stand on their own.”_

_“How am I supposed to know that, you geezer?”_

_“Eggplant, I’m going to teach you how to fish.”_

_I didn’t get what he meant because after he said that, he gave me two pieces of bread and lettuce with some other ingredients for a sandwich. He didn’t really teach me, now that I think about it, I learnt through repetition. I watched him and copied him. I learnt how to do it like a baby learns how to walk, watching and imitating._

_When it was over, he told me that I now knew how to fish._

_“My name’s not Eggplant,” I told him. “It’s Sanji.”_

_“And mine’s Zeff,” said Zeff, “now get out of here, you rascal!”_

_I went back the next night, to make sure it hadn’t been a dream. Zeff pretended to be surprised, but I think he was expecting me. That’s when he started teaching me._

_It was always at night, and I rarely got sleep, but I got used to it. I got good at. He taught me how to turn scraps into something edible and filling. We had to be quiet and we couldn’t use too much stuff, in case anyone noticed a decrease in supplies, but it … it was fun._

_It was kind of like I had a father, I guess you could say._

_I was a kid of the system. I know that not all orphanages were like the one I was at, but I guess I wasn’t lucky. I went through lots of foster homes. No one seemed to like me. Either the pets didn’t like me or the siblings that were there first hated my guts. Sometimes I was just a waste of space, or the parents just took me in because they thought they were performing some kind of charity for the world._

_Every time I came back, Zeff would frown and ask me why I was back again. Didn’t I have a family yet? Didn’t someone pick me up off the street yet? What the heck was wrong with me, some short blond kid, unable to keep a home for longer than a month at most?_

_It went on like that for a few years. When I was nine, Zeff resigned from the orphanage and decided he wanted to take me in. I don’t really remember if he went through with the actual paperwork or anything, because I never got his last name._

_Zeff wanted to start a restaurant. He wanted to be the head chef at some big place that would feed everyone, and anyone. I joined him because I didn’t want anyone to go through the hunger I had. It was awful. Even with Zeff teaching me how to cook, I got just enough food. We were going to open the restaurant to anyone and everyone._

_He let me name it so—_

_  
_ “The Baratie,” said Zoro softly. “You named it the Baratie.”

“Actually, no,” Sanji said with a laugh. “We got into a fight over it. I wanted to call it the Basket, don’t even ask me why that thought occurred to me. I was nine, in my defence,” Sanji added quickly when he saw Zoro’s lips curl into a smile. “And Zeff wanted to call it the Tavern, or some shit like that. I don’t know how, but we ended up with the name Baratie.” Sanji shrugged. “Best argument I ever got into though.”

“Were your points any good?”

“I thought the letter B was bubbly and would look nice on a sign, and the word ‘Tavern’ made me think of drunks.”

Zoro let out a light laugh. “That’s … cute.”

Sanji turned away and fought down his blush. 

“Yeah, well …”

  
_One day when me and Zeff were talking about how we’d get the place started, these two guys came in, asking for jobs. The Baratie is kind of like a giant apartment really, with me and Zeff living on the top floor and the main dining hall being on the bottom floor. We remodelled it so you could barely tell, but that’s besides the point. When the two guys came in, I thought of it like letting them into our house, I always think that when I see customers come in._

_They were Patty and Carne, who were nice, honestly, for the first five seconds. The second Zeff was gone to write up a contract …_

_“What’s this shrimp doing here? Can you even cook, shortie?”_

_“I bet he can’t even hold a knife,” Carne said._

_“I can too!” I told them. I didn’t like them that much anyway, they smelled weird to me. Dirty. I wish I had pushed them out the second they got there, but I … I couldn’t …._

  
Zoro squeezed Sanji’s hand tightly. “You were what, nine? _Maybe_ ten?” He shook his head. “Even if you wanted to, I doubt you could’ve taken them. It’s not your fault.”

Sanji shook his head. “You don’t understand, they were … They wouldn’t expect anything from some bratty nine year old, would they? I should’ve …”

His hand was shaking in Zoro’s. The swordsman put another hand over Sanji’s, holding him tightly. “Then make me understand,” Zoro said in a soft voice. “I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but I’ll listen as many times as it takes till I get it. I can’t guarantee I’ll understand 100%, I don’t think anyone could understand it in that way, but I’m willing to listen if you’re willing to talk. You’re not alone, Sanji, no matter what you think.”

Sanji swallowed the lump in his throat. 

What would it hurt to believe Zoro? Just for today?

“Right, so Patty and Carne …”

  
_By the time Zeff had them signing the contract, they had fooled him. Zeff acts all tough and rough, but he's really soft-hearted. He took me in after all. He felt bad for them._

_The first few weeks with them were torture. I wanted to find a way to expose them for who they were, for all the hell they put me through. It was subtle though, little shoves, small remarks that no one would really notice were insults unless they really thought about them. It was like they were teasing me and it was right in front of Zeff too, but he didn’t pay any mind. If he did, then he didn’t show it._

_When every new cook came, I hoped they would see the craziness that was Patty and Carne and they’d stop them, but they got sucked in too. It got to the point where I wondered if this really was better than the orphanage …_

_The first time Zeff went off for a few weeks was maybe six months after we first opened the restaurant.  Zeff had some kind of business he had to take care of elsewhere so he left the kitchen to Patty. He had already decided I was his assistant cook and you have no idea how much that meant to me, that he made me the assistant cook,_ **_me_ ** _!_

_I wanted to tell him to stay though, right before he left. He called me a brat like usual and told me to behave and before I could say anything in protest, he was gone and Patty and Carne looked like their dreams had just come true._

_That was the first time they hit me._

_They shoved me around the kitchen, stole my equipment and hid it, juvenile stuff when I think about it._

_Zeff had gotten me this knife for Christmas, it was a really good one, stainless steel. I used it for all of my dishes. Patty took it and hid it somewhere. I’m sure they had fun watching me have a mental break down over it._

_I remembered running out the back door and leaning against the building, breathing hard. I was crying, I remember it was cold, since it was still January. There was a man outside, loitering, smoking a cigarette. He saw me and asked me if I wanted some of it. I think he might’ve been drunk or high, probably both, but I took it._

_I remember coughing the first time because I couldn’t handle it. It didn’t taste all that great, but it made me feel lightheaded and it relaxed me._

_I’ve been smoking ever since._

_When I was thirteen, that’s when they started to call me names that were worse than just “loser” and “idiot”. I think that’s when I first met Moodie too. She was really pretty, in her late teens I think. I waitered for the first time around then too. They teased me, saying she was my girlfriend, until they changed tactics and Patty said I could never get a girl. I was too ugly._

_And I don’t even know why, it seems stupid now, but I … I freaked out. I started staring at myself all the time, wondering what was wrong with me, what was I lacking? I felt like I was on the brink of insanity while they called me names, telling me I was fat, I was ugly, that I made other people’s stomach churn with the need to vomit._

_Maybe three months after that, Moodie introduced me to her first boyfriend._

_I snapped. I … I … that knife Zeff had given me …._

  
Sanji was shaking. His bottom lip was trembling and his hands were shaking. His grip on Zoro loosened and his knees knocked against each other. He swallowed and tried to bite back tears. “I …” He trailed off. “Fuck, I’m sick, aren’t I? It was a gift,” he muttered, “it was his _gift_ to me and I …”

Zoro got up from his seat across from Sanji and he wanted to reach out and grab him, to stop him from leaving, but then Zoro took a seat next to Sanji, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him into his chest. “I’m not going to tell you it’s okay,” Zoro admitted, “because that’s bullshit. But right now, it’s over. Do you want to stop? You don’t have to tell me the rest.”

Sanji shook his head. No, Zoro deserved to know for all the trouble he had gone through for Sanji, and if he didn’t say it now, he knew he never would. “Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Zoro started to rub soft circles on Sanji’s back. “Take your time.”

Sanji didn’t know how long he clung to Zoro but when he finally calmed down, he expected Zoro to pull away from him. 

He didn’t. 

_Why? Why are you holding me? If you feel bad for me, don’t do this. That … it’s not enough if it’s just because you feel sorry._

But he didn’t push him away. He didn’t have the strength to, didn’t trust himself to accidentally pull Zoro closer and get greedy. 

 _Just a little longer,_ he told himself.

  
_It … It made me feel better. I know that sounds crazy, but it did. Like all my pain was finally starting to show. I went a little over-board the first time. There was a lot of blood and it took a long time to clean it up, but I felt better about it._

_The next day when I was out waitering, Moodie didn’t even seem to notice. It kind of felt like no one would ever notice if I did it. If I kept it well hidden, I could continue and no one would know. So I did. I did it a lot, more than I’d like to admit._

_It was the same routine for years, just like that. I’d be made fun of, I’d worry about my appearance, I’d get beaten up when Zeff went off on trips. I would put on a smile, I’d get hurt by someone or another, I’d cut, I’d bleed and then smile again._

_I just kept wishing everything would just_ **_stop_ ** _, just so I could catch my breath, you know? But nothing ever gave and so I did instead. Because what else could I do?_

_I got used to just going through the motions, like my whole life was on autopilot. I just stopped fighting eventually. I stopped dreaming of other possibilities too, I just … accepted it. Because I didn’t know what else I could do._

_And then you came._

  
“You know, when I first saw you, my first thought was that you looked so lost. You were so … _different_ from what I was used to, it was like … it sounds so stupid and cliché, but it was like my world shattered and I realized there was _more_ , you know? More than the life I was living. And then you opened your mouth and ruined it by being a total bastard.”

Zoro laughed at that. “Oh yeah?”

“Does that offend you?” He felt so small, under his gaze, but the swordsman was looking at him with warm eyes.

“Nope, that was my first impression as well.” 

Sanji smirked. “Great minds think alike, right?”

Zoro squeezed his hand gently. “You know what? I don’t think I need to hear the rest. I’m good with knowing what I do—”

“No,” Sanji cut him off. “No, I _want_ to tell you. You deserve to know.”

Zoro nodded slowly and waited.

Sanji took a deep breath. “I got a beating that night. I mean, I knew I would, but I wasn’t expecting you to see it. My first thought was that I had to hunt you down and kill you, so no one would know about it.”

“Where would you have hid my body?”

“I didn’t get that far,” Sanji admitted, glad Zoro was taking his confession of homicidal thoughts so well. “And I don’t know, I didn’t know what to do. A part of me thought it was weird, that no one had seen earlier, no one had seen sooner. You were the first one to see me like that. I guess … I guess Zeff could’ve known, but I couldn’t let him know. I couldn’t let him know that the home he had given me to save me from that damn orphanage was actually causing me even more pain, so I hid it from him. The way you hide stuff from people you love, so they don’t have to be burdened with your own, trivial problems.”

“Sanji … _nothing_ about your problems were trivial.”

“They just … they didn’t seem that big of a deal when I thought about the stress of running an entire restaurant, it was nothing. I guess it was my fault no one knew earlier, it wasn’t like any of the customers were going to care. You were the first one who cared. 

“About the grocery store … When you ran into me, I had a bad beating the night before. Patty got mad at me for breaking a glass and I paid for it with a beating to my ribs. Rolling pins … they pack a punch.”

Zoro was holding his hand so tightly, Sanji felt as though his fingers would break.

“Calm down, it’s in the past.”

“Those bastards …”

“It’s done.”

“They _hurt you_.” Zoro met Sanji’s gaze fiercely, his grey eyes holding so much emotion Sanji couldn’t describe. “It doesn’t matter that it’s in the past, _they hurt you_.”

“I …” Sanji bit his lip. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Zoro let go instantly, blushing. “Sorry, I uh …”

“It’s fine.”

“Tell me when I hurt you.”

“I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

Sanji drew in a deep breath and barrelled on through, knowing if he didn’t get it out now, he would never. “Anyway … the night I kicked you … the night before I had come back into the kitchen after serving and I dropped something by accident. They— the cooks, I mean, slapped my … they slapped my ass and asked me if I liked it.” 

Sanji was trembling. He hated it. _Why? Why am I so weak? It’s in the past, it’s over, they can’t hurt you now._ But it always felt so fresh, so ripe. His stomach fell out from him. Zoro would know the truth now. He’d be tarnished in his eyes, dirty. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it, the judgement from Zoro, but he pushed on through anyway.

“They … they mentioned your name a few times. Lots of times, actually. Patty told them to strip me and …” Sanji’s face was hot. He was twitching at the memory. Zoro tensed, his lazy circles on stopping. His mouth was dry, too dry, he needed air, he needed to breathe he needed to— “Patty … Patty forced me to suck him off.” He wasn’t sad. He was angry. All that anger from the night came back at him, full force, the frustration, the helplessness, the humiliation. “And then Carne … he just … He  …”

“Stop,” Zoro said, holding him tighter. “Stop, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But he …” Sanji couldn’t see. His vision was blurring with tears, Zoro’s shirt looked like a mix of blues. “He forced me onto Patty harder … And then he got behind me and …”

“Stop,” Zoro begged. “Sanji, _please stop._ ”

“Carne f-f-fucked me.” The words forced themselves out, feeling bitter on his tongue. He stumbled on his words and he knew his entire being was shaking now. “And it was so sudden … he just … it h-hurt Zoro, it hurt _so much_ …” 

Zoro’s fingers were in his hair, gently petting him. “Shush,” he whispered, “you don’t have to force yourself. If it hurts, stop.”

“And then …” Sanji couldn’t help it, he hadn’t told anyone, he _needed_ to talk as much as it hurt him, as much as the memories brought it back, fresh like a new cut on an open wound. He needed someone to know and if it was going to be anyone, he wanted it to be Zoro. “And then Carne, he … he came in me and Patty and him s-switched places. Patty … Carne … t-they didn’t even w-warn me. J-just shoved themselves i-in—” He couldn’t finish his sentence, instead gripping Zoro tightly. “Why did they do it?” His voice was cracking, his throat was dry, he felt small. “Why did they f-fuck me? Did I … did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” Zoro reassured him gently. “You didn’t do anything. They’re just bastards.”

Sanji buried his head in Zoro’s shirt. He felt awful, he felt exposed, he felt like he wanted to die, curl up in a little ball and end _everything_.

Sanji muttered something against Zoro’s shirt.

“What?” Zoro asked in a soft voice.

Sanji sniffled and took a deep breath. “C-constant,” he repeated. He frowned. “I … I don’t know, it’s a stupid thing I have an obsession with. Constants. The sun’s always going to rise, the moon will always set …” He shook his head. “I’ve never had a constant. Not one that was for me, not one that was _my_ constant, something that would never leave for _me_ , never change …” His laugh was without humour. “I sound fucking insane, don’t I?”

Zoro wordlessly pressed him harder against his chest. He took one of Sanji's hands held it in his own. He turned it over slowly, entwining their fingers. He ran his thumb over the calluses. “I wasn't lying, you know,” he told Sanji softly. “They’re beautiful. Your hands, I mean.”

Silence.

“You’re beautiful.”

Sanji scoffed. “Yeah, and you’re a prancing leprechaun.”

“I’m serious.”

Sanji shook his head in return, pulling away from Zoro’s chest, but the swordsman kept forced him to stay and meet his eyes. “You need to get your head checked.” When Zoro opened his mouth to protest, Sanji beat him to it. “Look at me. _Really_ look at me. I’m as skinny as a toothpick, I’m paler than a baby’s ass, my eyes have no depth to them, my lips are chapped, my legs are too long, my hair— God, where do I even _begin_ with my hair? My skin’s rough in texture, my fingers look like bones, the outline of my ribs are visible, my arms are lanky, my eyebrows are fucked up, my wardrobe consists of dress shirts, black pants and a tie, not to mention that fucking annoying blazer, my boots are clunky—”

“But, it’s not about that—”

“Oh, are you going to tell me my personality’s beautiful? Are you going to tell me that my soul is pure and my pride is admirable? I lost that a long time ago, or did you not notice? I’ve got the mouth of a fucking sailor, my soul was tainted the moment I entered the damn restaurant and it’s been broken to bits since I took it up the ass by those shit cooks! I’m not beautiful, I’m a fucking train-wreck!”

Sanji took Zoro’s silence as agreement.

“Don’t call me fucking beautiful, you fucking liar.”

Zoro sighed and put a finger underneath Sanji’s chin. He begun to mould himself into Zoro again, but Zoro placed a finger under his chin and forced him to meet his eyes.

“I’m not,” he said in a quiet voice.

Zoro shook his head. “You are. You’re _so_ fucking beautiful.”

“Fucking lying Marimo,” Sanji told him in a quiet voice.

“Agree to disagree then.” 

Was he getting closer?

What was this? Pity? Sympathy? Sanji hated pity, he hated sympathetic eyes. He didn’t want to see the look in Zoro’s eyes, he wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. If he didn’t see it, he could believe this was about Zoro and him, about the two of them and not about Sanji’s sorry excuse for a past. 

This was about _them_. Zoro and Sanji. This was because they wanted to, because they both felt it, felt the pull, felt the tension in the air. This was because he and Zoro liked each other, because he and Zoro were falling in love with each other. With his eyes closed, he could convince himself for just a moment it was all true.

It was right before their lips touched, feeling Zoro’s breath on his, that the swordsman pulled away.

Sanji kept his eyes shut. He didn’t trust himself to hide the disappointment clearly written on his face. He took a deep breath, tried to bury the rejection, tried to forget that even a wounded person like him wasn’t worth a pity kiss. He untangled himself from Zoro. 

_It was a nice dream._

“Night, Marimo.” 

He didn’t dare look back. 

If he looked back, he’d break and he knew he would never be able to put himself back together again.


	23. The Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> References to past abuse

****_"This is the last night you'll spend alone  
_ _Look me in the eyes so I know you know  
_ _I'm everywhere you want me to be  
_ _This is the last night you'll spend alone  
_ _Hold you in my arms and I won't let go  
_ _I'm everything you need me to be  
_ _The last night away from me"_

Skillet, _The Last Night_

  
He was going to tell him. He swore to God, he was going to tell him. 

It hadn’t taken that long to decide. Just four months knowing the cook, about two months of living with him, over a month of agonizing over his potentially unrequited love and one night of confessions to bring Roronoa Zoro to his knees.

It was so strange, that this was Sanji was the one to break him. He had thought that part of him was broken after Her, thought it had died along with Her, leaving him an empty shell of the man he used to be. He hadn’t even dreamed of ever daring to do something like this again, and even if he had, it felt like it was too soon. She had been gone for less than a year. He couldn’t be moving on that quickly, could he? But it didn’t feel _wrong_ with Sanji. He knew She would’ve loved him, and it was with that reassurance that he knew he could do this. He would tell him.

He liked to imagine that Sanji had wanted to kiss him, that he was disappointed that Zoro had pulled away. Zoro knew _he_ had wanted to kiss him. So much. He _really_ wanted to kiss him, but he hadn’t. Sanji would’ve thought it was out of pity or some other fucked up conclusion he was sure to draw. 

He was going to tell him and he’d do it today. He’d figure it out. Somehow.

* * *

Attempt #1: Subtle Hinting

**Time: 7: 45 AM JST**

_Location: Shit-apartment_

* * *

Zoro had forced himself up early. He knew that for some insane reason, Sanji was up at the crack of dawn every morning and he wanted to start off the day on a good note. 

He had no real plan. He just knew he had to say _something_. Maybe he was falling in love with him, maybe he was _already_ in love with him— no, he wouldn’t mention that, that would sound weird, wouldn’t it? Zoro mentally shook his head. There was no reason to shock Sanji out of his wits so early in the morning.

When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Sanji making breakfast. Waffles and sausages this morning. He pulled up a chair and waited for Sanji to take notice of him.

It was after a few minutes of humming to himself that the blond turned around, to put a plate on the table that he spotted Zoro and nearly dropped the plate in his hand. He put it on the table and turned away from him, seeming stiff. “Morning, Zoro,” he said. Even his voice was stiff.

_Shit, did I screw up? What did I do?_

Zoro sat up straighter in his chair and leaned closer to the blond. “Um, Sanji?” His voice was so unsure. He didn’t like it.

“What, Mr. Roronoa?”

_Did I hear him right?_

“Did you just call me Mr. Roronoa?” 

Sanji stiffened. “Maybe.”

Zoro frowned. “I thought we were done with that like, months ago.” He shook his head and stood up from his seat at the table, approaching Sanji. He wrapped his arms around the lean cook’s middle. Pressing his mouth to Sanji’s ear, he whispered, “I thought you trusted me— OH FUCK!”

Of course Sanji would kick him in the balls. To be fair, Zoro realized that suddenly wrapping himself around Sanji had been a surprise and probably wasn’t entirely welcomed, but still, it had felt amazing to feel his lean frame against Zoro’s muscular torso. He liked it. He _really_ liked it and wished the cook hadn’t pushed him away.

“ _Seriously_?” 

Fuck subtlety, he had potentially lost the entire Roronoa bloodline with that one daring move. 

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Sanji told him with a smirk. “You kick me, I kick you.”

“I don’t kick like a fucking maniac!”

Sanji snorted. “Whatever.” Sanji continued to make breakfast in silence, until he broke it suddenly, Zoro still getting over the pain in his jewels. “So, I figure it shouldn’t take me that long to get myself all packed up. I’m guessing you can expect me gone and out of your hair by about nine tonight.”

Zoro choked on his milk. “Gone?”

“No objections then?” said Sanji, turning over a waffle. “Great, sorry if I’m a bit loud moving out my stuff but—”

“ _Moving out?_ What the fuck are you talking about?”

Sanji didn’t look at him. 

“What are you talking about, Curlicue?” 

“I figured I’m a nuisance and my mental state seems somewhat better, so I may as well leave now, right?”

“FUCK NO!”

Sanji jumped at Zoro’s raised voice, turning around to face him finally. What he saw in Sanji’s eyes broke him. Despite the casualness of his words, there was so much confusion, dejection and other emotions Zoro couldn’t name in his eyes.

“Did you think just because you told me your story I’d kick you out? We have a nice talk yesterday and that’s it, good-bye?” he demanded. “Fuck no, that's not the way it works!” 

“But—”

“Why, do you _want_ to leave?”

As soon as he said it, he wanted to take the words back. He didn’t want to hear Sanji say that he was done with Zoro. What if Sanji had been waiting for the perfect opening to escape and Zoro had just handed it to him?

The silence was killing him, when—

“…No.”

Zoro could breathe again. “So what’s the fucking problem?”

“What’s the fucking problem?” Sanji repeated. “What do you fucking _think_ is the problem? I’m dirty! I’m a whore! You can’t honestly tell me you want someone like me in your house, do you?”

“Don’t you _dare_ say that again,” Zoro snapped at him, grabbing Sanji by his shoulders and keeping eye-contact with him. He refused to let Sanji go underneath his scrutinizing gaze. “Don’t you _fucking dare_.”

“Say what?” asked Sanji, his voice raising. “That I’m a whore? That I’m a slut?”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” 

“Why? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“You can’t honestly believe that.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” His voice made Zoro’s heart ache.

“Sanji, look me in the eyes.” 

The blond refused to lift his head up.

“I need you to look at me, Love Cook,” said the swordsman in a gentle voice.

Slowly, Sanji’s chin lifted.

“Do other people pay you to have sex with you?”

A small shake of the head.

“Okay. Then how about you? Do you pay _others_ to have sex with you?”

Another head shake.

“Then you’re not a slut, you’re not a whore. You’re not a fucking prostitute, or a rent-boy. You’re Sanji and you’re an unfortunate person whose been dealt shitty cards but you know what? You come out stronger because of it. You’re stronger because of it and I’m not going to fucking discard you just because I know you were raped. That doesn’t make you any less valuable to me.” 

“Valuable?” Sanji spat. “Yeah right.”

“You’re not worthless,” Zoro said. 

Sanji turned away.

“Sanji, do you trust me?”

He wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Sanji,” Zoro said slowly, “ _Do you trust me?_ ”

It was a whisper. “More than I should …”

“What’s that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Zoro’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Then trust me when I say this. You’re _not_ worthless. Sanji, if anyone dares to say otherwise, I’ll fucking kill them.”

“Okay.” 

Zoro knew he didn’t believe him.

They ate breakfast in silence and then Sanji went out to buy groceries, leaving Zoro in the quiet apartment.

* * *

Attempt #1: Subtle Hinting

**FAILURE**

**Notes:**

  * ******Cook appears to want to leave. Why the fuck does he want to leave?**
  * ******Do not suddenly hug him, he doesn’t like it. Don’t touch him suddenly. Keep your hands to yourself.**
  * ******Must prove to Sanji he has a sense of worth**
  * ******Must kill the bastards who told him otherwise death is too good for them** **Think of ways to torture the bastards who told him otherwise**



* * *

Attempt #2: Casual Flirting

**Time: 11:16 AM JST**

_Location: The Idiot’s House_

* * *

 

Zoro was going to pull his hair out. 

Okay, so it hadn’t worked that morning, but he had lectured Sanji long and hard about how much he was worth. He had to tell him sometime today, before he lost the nerve and all things fell to hell and shit. Sitting on Luffy’s couch, he ran his fingers through his hair, muttering profanities under his breath. How _the fuck_ was he supposed to do this?

“You know, you _could_ try flirting with him.”

Zoro sighed and threw his legs into the air on the couch as he laid back. “Oh yeah? And how the fuck do you flirt with a man, Nami?”

“You do it all the time, don’t you? You banter, right?”

“Banter isn’t flirting,” said Zoro, rolling his eyes.

Luffy blinked. “Really?” He turned to Nami. “I thought you said it was.”

“In Zoro and Sanji’s case, it is,” replied the evil, gambling, conniving redhead.

Zoro shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, Sanji isn’t even here—”

“Fucking bastards, why isn’t your fucking doorbell working?”

There was the sound of something being shoved against a door and then Nami was running down the stairs and opening the front door where a pissed off cook stood with snow in his hair. 

He looked beautiful like that, with the snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes.

 _You’re getting soft, Roronoa,_ he chided himself.

“You look like a fucking mess.”

Of course, his tongue didn’t agree with his head and instead said such a stupid thing as that. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

“You don’t look any better,” Sanji snapped, taking off his boots. “What’d you do, drown in a ditch?”

“Very funny, Dart Brow!” He rolled his eyes. Turning to Luffy, he glared at him. “What the fuck were you saying before?”

Luffy opened his mouth to respond, but Nami quickly covered his mouth with her hand. “He doesn’t want you to repeat,” she told him. “Anyway,” she turned to Zoro, “what were you talking about before you started to pull out your hair?”

“Pulling out your hair?” Sanji glanced at Zoro with a confused expression on his face. It was too cute, really. Sanji was going to kill him one of these days.

“It’s your fault!” 

“ _My_ fault?” Sanji snorted in disbelief. “Any shitty problems you have are your own damn fault, Marimo! Don’t go blaming others for your fucking issues!”

“But _you’re_ my problem!” 

Sanji stared at him and took a step back.

_Shit. That was_ **_not_ ** _what I meant to say …._

“Wait,” Zoro said, holding up a hand. “Give me a second.” He ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the right way to tell Sanji. 

Sanji _was_ his problem, in more ways than one. He knotted his stomach, made him feel things he could barely even put words to, drove him up the wall … He was utter lunacy and yet Zoro had come to like it. He had come to like it _a lot_. But furthermore, there was the unresolved issue of Sanji seeming to want to move out.

“I’m not going to let you move out,” Zoro told him. “You can’t decide to kick yourself out of the apartment—”

“It’s not like it’s mine,” Sanji snapped. “Not like I own the shit-apartment. I don’t even pay the fucking rent, who cares if I’m gone?”

“I CARE!”

Sanji stared at Zoro strangely. His eyes lit up for a moment, before they became dark again. He turned his head away, chewing on his cigarette. “Yeah, fucking right.”

“Haven’t we been over this?” Zoro ran his fingers through his hair. He swore he’d go bald soon at this rate. “Fucking bastard, we’re not having this conversation again! Not in front of Nami and Luffy!” He walked up to Sanji and glared at him. He had a centimetre of height over him, but that was all Zoro needed to try and intimidate him. “Listen, when we get back to the apartment, we’re going to talk about this, okay? We’re going to sort this out because I’ll be damned if you’re ditching me now. Do you understand me?”

Sanji bit his cigarette. “You’re fucking embarrassing, you know that, don’t you?”

“ _Do you understand me_?” Zoro repeated, more forcefully this time.

“…Yes.”

There was silence that fell around the room, the atmosphere thick when—

“WOOOHOOO!”

Everyone turned to Luffy.

The straw hat man whistled loudly. “So we’re all okay now?” He wore a cheery grin that looked like it was going to split his face in half. “Hey Sanji, you should make us something to celebrate!”

Nami hit him upside the head.

“What?”

“ _Baka_!” she said, rolling her eyes. She whispered in his ear and as she spoke, Luffy’s eyes widened.

“Oops! Sorry!” He let out a strange sounding chuckle. “Me and Nami will just go, we have something we need to do!” He began to retreat, but not before Zoro could yell a grammatical correction to him. Honestly, it was “Nami and I”, was it that hard to understand? It wasn’t rocket-science, not even for the straw-brained idiot.

Sanji let out a nervous laugh. “Your friends sure are crazy.”

Zoro gave him a lopsided grin. “You didn’t figure it out already?”

Sanji’s eyes turned serious. “What did you mean I was your problem?”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it.”

“Yes I would, you don’t know what goes on in my head!” And thank God for that or else the cook would know that the way he was chewing his cigarette was driving Zoro absolutely _insane_. Honestly, he didn’t even _like_ smoking and yet the blond made it so alluring … “Anyway, what’s this whole moving out shit you brought up at breakfast?”

“Why were you even up at that time?” asked Sanji, raising an eyebrow at him. “You don’t get up until I have to call you down for breakfast, and sometimes not even then!”

_I was_ **_trying_ ** _to confess to you, but then I went and cocked that up, as you well know._

“Felt like waking up early,” Zoro told him, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t tell  Sanji right now, he wasn’t prepared. “You got a problem with that, Cook?”

Sanji bit his lip and frowned. “No,” he said in a somewhat small voice. “But—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Fuck, he was trying to _confess_ to the idiot, how did he end up doing this? Zoro’s tongue must’ve been made of jelly, which would explain his inability to form  syllables, therefore incapable of forming words, therefore incapable of getting his _fucking point across._

“Nothing, I guess,” Sanji said quietly. He turned away from Zoro with a flash of disappointment in his eyes? Was Zoro imagining it?

_I take a step forward and take two steps back. Fuck, I really am an_ _idiot_ _._

* * *

Attempt #2: Casual Flirting

**FAILURE**

**Notes:**

  * ******Banter isn’t flirting, right?**
  * ******Work tongue, WORK**
  * ********Stupid Luffy, interrupting a could-be moment. I’m going to fucking kill him, and his gambling girlfriend too.****  
 ****



* * *

 

Attempt #3: Straight Forward

**Time: 12:34 PM JST**

_Location: Shit-apartment_

* * *

 

Zoro watched Sanji’s back as he made their lunch, practically dancing around the kitchen as usual. It was always entertaining, not to mention interesting to watch the cook— well, _cook_. 

_I swear, I’m going to tell him. I’ll tell him properly too. Third time’s the charm, right?_

Taking a deep breath, Zoro braced himself. “I—”

“Sashimi.”

“Huh?” Zoro blanked. _What?_

“I’m making sashimi. I remember you liked it last time,” Sanji said. “So I figured I’d make it again.”

 _Oh right_. He had asked him what he was a while earlier, before he had begun zoning out. He really needed to get this over with, before he worried himself into an early grave.

“How long till it’s done?” 

Okay, he was stalling. So what? It was no easy feat to try and confess to a ladies’ man, with a possible resentment towards the male population (despite being part of it himself) due to being raped by the bastards who had ruined his upbringing and childhood, not to _mention_ had trust issues, was convinced he was ugly, going through forced rehab for self-harm and suicidal thoughts, needed therapy for his traumatizing time at a restaurant he was _supposed_ to be able to call home, and had only just gotten over flinching at everyone’s touch.

_Wow … when you put it like that, I’m in a really fucked up situation, aren’t I?_

“Couple of minutes,” Sanji replied with a shrug. “Wanna play a game?”

“What kind of game?”

“You’d know this one. _Shirtori_.”

Zoro had just found his new favourite pass-time. Watching Sanji’s lips move.

“I forgot how to play.”

_Don’t mind me, staring at your mouth._

“Seriously?” Sanji sighed, but he was smiling. “You’re hopeless. _Shiritori_ , it’s a word game—”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Sanji glared at him. “Shut it, you know you love my word games.”

_You have_ **_no_ ** _idea._

“It’s pretty easy, one person says a word and then the next person says a word that begins with that word’s ending, so if I said something like … I dunno, Zoro, you could say Roronoa. And then to reply to Roronoa, you’d have to say something that begins with A or OA.”

“What the fuck begins with OA?”

“And that is why we are never going to say your name in this game, got it? I can play while I’m cooking. Hit me with a word, come on Marimo.”

Zoro stared at the back of the preoccupied cook. Could he make him squirm? “Innuendo.”

“Dominance.” He didn’t bat an eyelash.

Zoro _could_ say that didn't go straight to his groin, but he’d be lying.

“Censorship.”

Sanji frowned. “I don’t think that works.”

“I don’t think dominance works.”

“Dominance _always_ works.”

Fuck, the guy was _trying_ to kill him, right?

Sanji let out a laugh. “Anyway, didn’t you want to talk about the whole me-moving-out thing?”

Zoro shook his head. “Later. We’re going to talk about it tonight because there’s no way you’re going to be gone in the morning. If you are, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Kind of ruins the whole point of hospitality, doesn’t it?”

“Whatever.”

“Hmm … Well, just cooking can get a bit plain,” Sanji said slowly. “But—”

“Did you just call cooking boring? The _cook’s_ calling cooking boring? It’s the apocalypse!”

“I didn’t say it was boring, I said it could get a bit plain—”

“Plain, boring, mundane, they all mean the same thing!”

“They do not!”

“I’ll pull out a thesaurus. I can and I will, you want to try me, Dart Brow?”

“You own a thesaurus?” Sanji smirked at him. Fuck was that sexy. “You know the _word_ thesaurus?”

“Shut up!” Zoro thanked the Lord for his darker skin, shielding his rising blush. “So? Do you want me to pull it out?”

“Are we going to get the measuring tape?”

It seemed Sanji was the expert at making _Zoro_ squirm. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Can you find it?” Sanji challenged.

“Y-yeah!”

“You’re full of shit. Let’s tell a story.”

“A story?” Zoro echoed. “That’s not a game.”

“Anything can be a game if you make it one,” Sanji assured him. “So we’ll tell a story, taking turns to say our parts, but the catch is we can only say three words at a time.”

“Why would we do that?” Zoro crinkled his nose in confusion.

Sanji rolled his eyes and ignored his comment. “If you don’t wanna play, I’ll start—”

“Alright, fine!” It couldn’t hurt. 

 _Stalling_ , sang a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Nami. Zoro kindly told the pseudo-redhead in his mind to shut the fuck up, she didn’t know shit.

“Once upon a.”

“If you start every story like that, I’ll kill you,” Sanji declared. “It’s fucking stupid. I’ll kick you until your thorax comes out if you start a story with that goddamn cliché.”

“Fine. Once there was—”

“No.” 

“The fuck do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” Sanji said simply. “Do you not understand me? Would it help if I said it in French? _No_.”

“That’s still Japanese.”

“Just …” Were Sanji’s cheeks heating up? Oh, that was adorable. The red colour spread from his cheeks down his throat, hiding away beneath his collar. Zoro’s eyes followed it, trying to trace it down—

“You started with ‘once’,” said the cook, forcing Zoro out of his thoughts. _Bad Zoro. Bad!_ “They’re basically the same thing. I’m starting, since you clearly had no idea what you’re doing. One day there—”

“You just did it too!”

“I did not, I said ‘one’, that’s very different word from ‘once’.” Zoro liked the way Sanji’s forehead crinkled.

“It’s a derivative,” Zoro shot back. “If I can’t say ‘once’, you can’t say ‘one’.”

“Derivative. You’re pulling out all the fancy words tonight. What’s the special occasion?”

 _I’m trying to confess to you, without cocking it up._ “No reason. You’re reading too much into nothing, Curlicue.”

“Do you want me to burn your food?” 

Zoro glared. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Zoro didn’t dare. Sanji took his silence as acceptance. “Let’s start again. One day there …?”

“Was a boy named—”

“Nuh uh. Honestly, how hard is it for you to follow really simple rules?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That was four words!”

“What? No it wasn’t!”

“Was. A. Boy. Named,” Sanji held up a finger for each word he said. “Oh what’s that? Oh look, that’s four!” 

“You’re counting A?” Zoro said in disbelief. “That hardly counts as a word, it's more like half a word, it’s just a letter!”

“It’s a vowel!”

“Are we _really_ getting into the technicalities of linguistics?”

Sanji sighed. “Fine, but your sentence is cut off. The story so far is ‘one day there was a boy’.”

Just because Zoro was crossing his arms, did not mean he was having a mini-tantrum. “Fine.” He knew the next word out of Sanji’s mouth had to be “named” anyway. 

“Who,” Sanji said slowly. Zoro grit his teeth. Sanji was fucking up his story, the _bastard_. “was called.” 

Zoro grinned. “Eggplant. Called Eggplant.”

Sanji frowned. “I shouldn’t have told you about that,.”

“Tough luck cook,” Zoro said. “His name’s Eggplant.”

“Fine. Eggplant liked to …”

“Eat home-made sandwiches.”

“Four words again!”

“It’s a compound-word! Are you a language teacher now? Do you know anything about linguistics?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Eggplant was shy.”

 _“Voulais-tu sortir avec moi?_ ” 

Sanji stared at him.

 _Shit_.

Okay. Not his best move.

He could already hear Nami asking him what the fuck he was thinking. The only answer Zoro could offer was he hadn’t. The words had slipped out before he had processed them. Had he thought about them, he would’ve realized how fucking stupid it was to suddenly blurt it out of nowhere like that.

The swordsman shut his eyes and braced himself for Sanji’s answer when—

“I have no idea what you just said, but that sure as fuck wasn’t three words and there’s no disputing that.”

* * *

Attempt #3: Straight Forward

**FAILURE**

**Notes:**

  * ******Don’t speak in French when trying to confess, he doesn’t understand the language**
  * ******Find the thesaurus**
  * ********SPEAK IN LANGUAGES HE UNDERSTANDS****  
 ****



* * *

 

Attempt #4: Post-It

**Time: 5:56 PM JST**

_Location: Shit-apartment_

  
If he couldn’t say it because his tongue got fucking knotted to the point where he was spewing a different language, then Zoro would just write it. 

 _Suki. Daisuki_. 

It wasn’t that hard. And yet for some reason, his mind had blanked on how to write.

He would _not_ let Sanji call him stupid and be right. He knew how to write, he _did_ , but his hand was shaking so much and the bright yellow of the post-it note was starting to piss him off. He had seven hours until the day was over and he was going to get this right, _goddammit_. 

Zoro stared at the clock on the stove. Correction: he had six hours. 

Fuck. Okay, he could do this.

“What are you writing, Marimo?”

Zoro let out the manliest squeak the world had ever heard.

What the fuck was he doing?

He didn’t trust himself to write it. With how much he was trembling, he knew he’d drop the pencil, and then that would be the perfect excuse to not pick it up again. Say he _did_ write it, (and it was actually readable), knowing himself and the amount of guts he had when it came to the blond, he was probably going to ball it up and throw it away.  

Fuck, no, he couldn’t think like this.

He could do this. He _could_.

“Oi, you deaf? I asked you what you were writing!”

“Nothing,” Zoro said, biting his lip harshly.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Sanji said, crossing his arms. “What, you writing a secret love letter?” What was that tone in his voice? Was Zoro imagining things? He almost sounded … envious? Dear God he wasn’t imagining it.

“And if it is?”

Sanji’s grin wavered before he smiled again. It was fake. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“No one,” Zoro said. It was true. Sanji _wasn’t_ a girl. “Besides, I never said it was a love letter, I was teasing, remember? Why, _jealous_?” 

Sanji rolled his eyes. “You wish.”

_Yeah, I do Sanji. I_ **_really_ ** _do._

“Anyway, I just got off the phone with Nami. She wants us to come over to her and Luffy’s place, they’re having a party or some other kind of shindig.”

“You can’t call me old school when you just said the word shindig un-ironically.” Zoro shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Shindig is like … from the 80s or something.”

“You’re discriminating against decades,” Sanji accused him. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. I heard some girl, Kaya’s going to be there? Who’s she? I think they mentioned her once before.”

“She’s Usopp’s girlfriend.”

“Usopp’s got a girlfriend?!” 

Zoro laughed, the post-it note long forgotten. “Yeah, they’ve been dating for at least six months now. That could be what the whole thing’s about. Usopp’s liked her since forever and she recently recovered from an accident …”

“Is she disabled?”

“Not that kind of accident!” Zoro shook his head. “She was suffering from depression. Usopp helped her a lot with his outrageous stories. Did he ever tell you the one about how he flew to Greece for the summer Olympics? Those sorts of things.”

“But they’re lies!”

“Aren’t lies better than the truth sometimes?”

Sanji had no response.

“He told her he was once part of a pirate crew called the Usopp Pirate Gang.”

“The Golden Age of Piracy was in the eighteenth century, wasn’t it?”

“Try sixteenth and seventeenth.”

“ _Captain of our fairy band,  
_ _Helena is here at hand,  
_ _And the youth, mistook by me,  
_ _Pleading for a lover's fee.  
_ _Shall we their fond pageant see?  
_ _Lord, what fools these mortals be!_ ”

“What?”

“Shakespeare,” Sanji replied with a shrug. “It’s from _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , one of his well-known comedies. Basically, there’s a huge love potion mix up so everyone falls in love with different people then they were originally in love with. Two men end up falling for this girl, Helena, and she’s really pissed because one of them is dating her best friend, and she loves the other one, but she thinks he’s teasing her. Puck, this magical fairy, put a love potion on the boys because he was asked to by his, like, master I guess you could call him? Anyway, there was a bit of a mix up and he thinks humans are stupid people, controlled by love.”

“Who the fuck names their kid _Puck_?”

“Shakespeare, apparently,” replied the cook with a laugh. “Come on Marimo, we’ve only got so much time before we have to get going.” He eyed the post-it note still in Zoro’s hand, blank and unwritten on. “You gonna finish your sappy love letter?”

“I never said it was sappy.”

“But you just admitted to it being a love letter.”

“It’s not!”

“The Nile isn’t just a river in Egypt! Anyway, I’m going to get ready. You should too.”

With that, the cook left.

Zoro stared down at the blank piece of paper. He contemplated writing it anyway in pen, even if he _was_ going to crumple up the paper when he was done, just to get it off his chest, but he didn’t. Instead, he glared at the bright yellow offending piece of paper and growled. “ARGH!”

“Zoro?” came Sanji’s voice from somewhere far away in Zoro’s mind. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Zoro called back to Sanji, wrinkling the damn piece of paper in his fist. “ _Salaud_ ,” he muttered under his breath before throwing it into the trash.

* * *

 

Attempt #4: Post-It

**FAILURE**

**Notes:**

  * ******Learn how to write again (they taught this shit in school, you passed school, remember?)**
  * ******Look up more stuff about that Shakespeare guy**
  * ******Unknot tongue**



* * *

Attempt #5: — fuck it!

  
Zoro didn’t care anymore. He really didn’t. He was perfectly content to sit on the couch with Sanji, watching some mindless anime, while they stayed silent in the dark of the apartment. The cook didn’t have to know about his damned feelings.

This was fine.

So what if Sanji had looked beautiful with tear stains running down his cheeks? So what if Zoro wanted to convince him he was beautiful, because by God was he? It didn’t matter. He could be content like this, watching … Holy fuck, he was watching that _Hetalia_ crack for him! Zoro took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way Sanji curled into his side. 

Fuck, he was so _not_ good.

Before he could over think it, he turned Sanji’s face to him, guiding him with a gentle hand. He ignored the surprised sound that slipped from the blond’s lips and covered them with his own.

_Was it this fucking good the first time?_

The cook’s lips were chapped, a little rough underneath his, but that didn’t matter. He pressed against Sanji’s lips gently, the pressure barely existent. The hand on Sanji's cheek lowered, snaking around his neck to keep him in place and Zoro swore, it was like he was melting into him, about to become a pile of mush. 

Somehow it got even better.

Sanji’s hand moved from its position on the couch. He lowered his fingers into Zoro’s hair, pulling him closer, ever so slightly. He pressed back against Zoro softly, his fingers gently fisting Zoro’s hair. If it weren’t for the slight pain of Sanji’s tugging, Zoro would think he was dreaming.

He kissed him back, using his other arm that wasn't around Sanji’s neck to wrap around his waist, trying to pull him as close as he could. He could die happily now.

Running his tongue along the seam of Sanji’s mouth, there were traces of spices and nicotine. Zoro was pretty sure he had just experienced second-hand addiction. It was toxic, it was intoxicating, and when Sanji’s lips parted, the flavours exploded behind Zoro’s eyelids.

Sanji gasped, grabbing Zoro’s shirt with his other hand, fisting the fabric beneath his fingers. 

Sanji broke the kiss softly, his eyes closed, his breathing laboured.

“Don’t tell me that tired you out,” Zoro teased softly.

It was never like that with Her. Her kisses were always hot and heated, needy and always taking and taking and swallowing and devouring. There was never any time to breathe. Her kisses were always full of desperation and desire, like She was a fire and his kisses were the fuel to keep her alive. They always left him breathless, but this was a different kind of breathless.

Not better, not worse, but different. 

It was all up to Sanji now.

The cook slowly opened his eyes and in the dim light the TV provided, Zoro could see the confusion in his grey-blue eyes. 

“But … why?” 

It broke Zoro’s heart to hear Sanji sound so small.

This was it.

He realized what his problem had been all day. He had been trying to plan, he had been trying to find some kind of method to tell Sanji how he felt, thinking if he found the right words, in the right sequence, it would somehow be the _right_ way to go about it. Some grand gesture or cheesy shit he had seen in the movies would surely mean he was doing it right, but the truth was there was no right way.

There was no right way, no perfect words, or perfect place or perfect time, there was only now. It was never about finding the perfect way to do it, because there was _no perfect way_ , only his own way.

He just hoped his way was good enough.

“I’ll be honest,” Zoro said softly, making sure he didn’t startle the cook. “I’ve been stressing about this all day. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say, just that I was going to say it. I don’t think I even knew what _it_ was. Just that there was something I had to tell you, before you decided you wanted to leave. 

“I’m not going to tell you things I don’t mean, or promise you shit I can’t keep, because you deserve better than that. I don’t understand my own feelings, I don’t even understand _myself_ most days. I’m not sure about anything and I’m still _so_ confused. I won’t even tell you that I know what _this_ is, whatever the fuck I’m saying is, because I don’t. I _really_ _don’t_. But I know that I like having you here.

"I like listening to you hum your stupid old fashion music in the mooning and I’ve gotten used to taking stupidly cold showers because you always forget to change the settings. I know that I don’t want you to leave. Not now, maybe not ever, which I know, sounds like another scary kidnapping scheme. Shit, _I’m_ scared. I’m fucking terrified, because it’s been a really long time since —” He couldn’t talk about that yet. Someday, but not today. “And I’m just rambling on and on, aren’t I? The point is … Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. Because I have no fucking clue what this is, but I really want to find out, and I can’t do that if you leave.

“I don’t care about your inner demons, I’ll fight them for you, _with_ you. I don’t care about your past, I care about who you are _now._ And I just … I don’t want to force you to stay, but if you think you have to leave because I’m going to treat you any different, you’re wrong, I’m still going to be the same insufferable bastard to you, I just … I want a chance to figure out what this is. Whatever the fuck _we_ are. I don’t want you to run from it, because I think … I think we could be fucking amazing.”

“You don’t … you’re not doing this because you pity me, are you?”

“Sanji, the _last_ thing I feel for you is pity. That’s the only thing I know for sure.”

Sanji was silent, chewing at his lip. 

The silence was deafening. 

Zoro’s heart was racing, blood was pulsating in his ears. He’d been honest. He didn’t know what else he could do, but be honest. 

Truth was only one of many things Sanji deserved, and Zoro was willing to give him everything he was entitled to, if Sanji accepted him, could handle that Zoro was a bumbling mess most of the time, and wouldn’t know his left from right in just about everything he did. If Sanji was willing to be patient, to take his time with Zoro, then Zoro was ready to do so much for him. 

“I’ll stay.” 

It was so quiet, Zoro almost didn’t hear it.

“Sanji …”

The blond’s blue eyes were full of so much trepidation, so much conflict. “I just … I don’t want to hurt … not again …”

Zoro pulled Sanji against his chest, holding him tightly. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”


	24. Different, Yet The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Mentions of past abuse

Sanji’s back hurt like a bitch and his pillow was moving.

Opening his bleary eyes, he discovered his pillow was in fact, Zoro’s chest. He could feel the swordsman’s heartbeat underneath the thin material of his blue shirt.

Blue. His favourite colour.

After all these months such an insignificant thing had stuck with him.

It was early. Sanji’s internal clock had him up at odd hours. Part of it was because of the late night and early hours he spent with Zeff at the orphanage, part of it was because he was used to waking up before the other cooks, to try and escape them (not that it ever worked).

Last night felt like a dream. He had been tired, Luffy’s party leaving him in a loopy state that made the past events fuzzy.

He lifted his fingers to his lips. He could feel the ghost of Zoro’s mouth on his. His tongue … God, Sanji had nearly melted into him. He had been so _aware_ of Zoro, of where his hands were, where his body was, like he could feel every muscle, every curve on him. His skin had been on fire, his mind had been a blank-slate.

It was embarrassing in retrospect.

Sanji inhaled his scent, letting it wash over him. Zoro smelt like steel, mint and some other kind of indescribable smell that could only be called _Zoro_.

Somehow, the swordsman had quelled all of his fears of rejection. He felt at ease with Zoro, in a way that he had never though he could be. He had woken up the previous day, worried Zoro was going to kick him out. He had offered to leave before he would have to hear the swordsman tell him to go. It was for the best. But then Zoro had flipped Sanji’s world on its head.

He proved that they could still be close, could still have carefree conversations. Just because he had told him everything, nothing about their relationship had to change. They could go on as they had before, almost effortlessly.

After the almost-kiss that had left Sanji feeling hollow, he had figured that answered the question of whether or not the green-haired man had any romantic interest in him, and he had accepted that.

But then last night …

_“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”_

The day had started off with his head spinning.

Zoro waking up so early was rare. As far as Sanji knew, it had never happened before but there he was when Sanji had turned around, sitting at the table, slouching. When he had wrapped himself around Sanji while he made breakfast, he wondered if the swordsman knew. He probably did, had probably seen the need and desperation on his face the night previously, when the disastrous Not-Kiss happened. But he held him so gently, it had made Sanji’s heart stop. The way he had told him so gently that he wasn’t useless, that he was _valuable_ …

He had tried so hard to convince himself it was nothing.

The cook timed his breathing with the swordsman, matching his rhythm.

Was it possible to feel this close to another human being after so little time?

_No, it’s been a while._

_It’s been a while since the Marimo walked into the Baratie. It’s been a while since he’s mentioned the scars. Since he’s had me trusting him. He pushes, but never pulls. He treats me … like I’m a person. Like I’m worth something. Like I_ **_mean_ ** _something. He’s always willing to let go if it gets too much for me, and he’s never asked anything out of me in return for all his hospitality._

Sanji stared at Zoro’s sleeping face.

Sanji had used the word “handsome” to describe several men in his life. He knew a few handsome photographers, handsome journalists, handsome people.

_“You’re beautiful, you know.”_

_Liar._

Sanji was not beautiful. With his pale skin, his stupid eyebrows and idiotic hair, he could never be. Not with his scars, with his history. He was too tainted to ever be anything more than “decent”.

But Zoro … Sanji had never seen anything quite as beautiful as the sleeping swordsman.

When Sanji had first heard the word “beautiful”, he thought it sounded pretty. Just the way it rolled off your tongue made it special. He didn’t toss around the word “beautiful” like it was nothing.

With a strong jaw, prominent chin, and sharp features, sure, Zoro was _handsome_ , but that barely brushed the surface. His tanned complexion, muscular body and callused fingers showed off his “manliness”, making his features even more striking, the earrings adding a nice little dash of “bad boy”, but—

It was his eyes that really got to him.

They were a grey, and sometimes they were the colour of the storm, and other days they were the colour of steel. Depending on the lighting, they could appear soft or hard, welcoming or threatening, but regardless, they were always so _expressive_. After so many years of seeing fake smiles and false laughs, Zoro was the first ever _genuine_ person Sanji had ever met and it made him shine so brightly. He could never hide anything with eyes like that, all of his emotions were so clear, you just had to learn to read them. Zoro’s eyes made him so easy to predict, to understand. They made Zoro so emotionally vulnerable, but he was still so _strong._ So confident, but not boisterous. Watching his emotions flicker in his irises was mesmerizing. It always felt wrong to look Zoro in the eyes straight on, Sanji always felt exposed and vulnerable, like the swordsman was looking into his soul, as if he knew all of Sanji’s secrets, but at the same time, it was like Sanji could see all of Zoro’s own secrets reflected in his pupils.

He knew fully well Zoro wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense, but that didn’t stop Sanji from finding him breathtaking.

Maybe it wasn’t even Zoro’s appearance that made him that way. Aside from his hair, there wasn’t much about him that would warrant a second glance.

Sanji wasn’t delusional, he knew Zoro wasn’t perfect.

The swordsman was brought around the edges and liked to act like he was _so_ tough. He always screamed just a bit too loudly and swore way too often. He had previously enjoyed drinking copious amounts of beer and he had no manners. He had a motorcycle in the garage (without a helmet because he was just “cool like that”). He couldn’t cook without setting off a fire alarm, and most definitely couldn’t find his way out of a parking lot. His words always got stuck in his throat, and he’d force them out anyway and they would come out all _wrong_ and it was clear from the way he started grimacing that he knew everything was going down south, but kept pressing on, forcing out awkward strings of words that were so warped and made no sense, but somehow _did_. Zoro got into fights a lot, physical and verbal, not caring if he had a fighting chance. He had a scar going diagonal across his chest and Sanji didn't know where it was from, he hadn’t put much thought into it when he had first seen it the night Zoro had gotten drunk, but he knew it was probably only one of the many mistakes Zoro had made in his life. He was secretive and kept to himself, and though he pushed for Sanji to tell him more, he didn’t share equal parts of himself with the blond. He made terrible first impressions and he was always a little too gruff with others, and his way of caring was more aggressive than most—

The list went on and on. But then there were the little things that Zoro did that shouldn’t be nearly as endearing as Sanji found them. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he found them to be so, perhaps just because it was _Zoro_ who was doing them.

The way the swordsman had aggressively shoved a spoonful of toxic gunk into his mouth, waiting anxiously for a response before telling Sanji to just spit it out and not bother.

The way Zoro had just _understood_ what Sanji had meant that first night, dragging him into the kitchen and choosing the one distraction that made him forget absolutely everything around him. How he kept doing it until the nightmares went away, staying up late into the night while Sanji spoke to himself and more or less ignored him, in his own world. He didn’t go to bed even though Sanji never really spoke directly to him on those nights, he stayed in his chair at the kitchen table, silent, watching and making small comments every once in a while. The fact that he had just stayed there, as a presence, so that Sanji hadn’t been alone in the dark kitchen, babbling to no one meant a lot to him.

When Zoro had brought him to a kendo match and gotten him in the best seats in the house.

The way Zoro didn’t question Sanji when he asked for his cigarettes. The fact that after all these months, he still remembered the brand he liked and just knew when he was craving another one.

The way Zoro could never take his eyes off of Sanji whenever he got into fights at Partys, and how they’d talk about their fights afterwards, comparing strategies, pointing out flaws and improvements. When they’d watch fights and try to figure out who would win before the final blow was dealt.

The fruitless “shut up” Zoro always pulled out whenever he was losing an argument or words failed him.

The way Zoro said things like they were going to happen, rather than a request. It was never an “if” with Zoro, always a “when”.

The strange therapy game he had thrown at Sanji, and the fact that he just rolled with all of Sanji’s strange word games.

The way he’d fight to drive his own car, but he always let Sanji drive, and sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, pouting.

Whenever he spoke French, Sanji didn’t even care if he was insulting him, he just loved the way the words sounded on his tongue.

The way he had looked away from the couple who had been kissing in the elevator.

The way he got breathless when you tickled him just the right way.

The fact that he avoided spoilers for the soap opera he “didn’t watch”, and though he called Sanji’s anime stupid, he still let it take up the majority of the space on the TV’s DVR.

There was too much to say about Zoro, he was … he was just _Zoro_.

Sanji lightly traced Zoro’s lips. They were softer than Sanji’s, though such harsh words come out of them. Zoro’s words could be as deadly as poison, or as sweet as honey when he wanted them to be. His tone was just as expressive as his eyes.

Zoro’s lips parted and Sanji pulled his hand back as though he had been burned. He tried to steady his breathing.

It was the third week of December, so there was a chill in the apartment.

Sanji shivered, trying to bring himself closer to Zoro for the sake of warmth. It wasn’t because he wanted to cuddle. It wasn’t.

Okay, maybe it was. Just a little.

He easily fell back to sleep like that, curled into Zoro’s chest, the nightmares kept far at bay.

* * *

 

When Sanji woke up, Zoro’s warmth was gone.

The clock read 11:56.

He walked into the bathroom, carefully avoiding the mirror above the sink when something caught his eye. Yes, he had blond hair, but what was that highlighter yellow that seemed too bright to be natural?

Sanji felt around his forehead and pulled away a post-it note.

_Gone out to Partys_

_Be back later_

_Z_

Sanji rolled his eyes. Of course that was how Zoro told someone he was going out. He couldn’t just do it like a normal person, could he? He chuckled to himself and took a quick shower before getting dressed.

Once he was dressed, he found a stack of blank post-it notes in the kitchen. Looking into the waste-bin nearby, he noticed the note Zoro had been trying to write on the day before. It was still blank. _What a waste._

In his neat, curly script, he wrote:

_Marimo,_

_Your shampoo is shit._

_S_

After sticking it on the bathroom mirror, Sanji put on his blazer and lit up his newest cigarette.

Waking up this morning had been an interesting and new experience, though his back still hurt —the couch was not comfortable.

What had last night been? Had the sleep-deprived Marimo been telling him things to make him stay, or was it more?

He _needed_ to know.

If Zoro was at Partys, Sanji would go to Partys.

While he sat in the back of the taxi, he wondered what he would say to Zoro. It felt like something that was too personal to talk about in public, which meant he might have to hint at it and hope Zoro caught onto subtlety.

Sanji would never admit it, but he was giddy. He was _beyond_ giddy, his whole body shaking, whether from nerves or excitement, he didn’t know, he just knew that there was an overly happy voice in the back of his head reminding him over and over again that he was going to see Zoro.

When he got out of the cab, he thanked the driver and entered Partys.

“Hello Sanji,” greeted Makino with a smile. “You haven’t been here in a while. Zoro’s downstairs.”

Sanji tried to hide his blush. Was it that obvious he wanted to see the swordsman?

He nodded in thanks,then descended the stairs, greeted by Yosaku and Johnny. The two bodyguards were wearing their usual shades.

“Hey guys, think you can let me in?”

“Big Bro Sanji!” said Johnny with a big smile. “You and Big Bro Zoro are a package deal, aren’t you?” he asked, laughing. “The same day Big Bro turns up after his long absence, so does Big Bro Sanji!”

Sanji let out a polite laugh. Zoro was in the underground fighting arena of Partys and the only thing standing in his way was Dumb and Dumber. “So, can I pass through?”

“Yeah, sure!” said Yosaku, stepping aside hurriedly.

Sanji had never been to Partys during the daytime.

It was like a completely different place.

The arena was still in place, with tables pushed to the side, but no one was fighting. Couples were dancing to some music, others were eating light meals with their beer. It looked so … _tame._ It felt weird without the constant soundtrack of punches being thrown and grunts.

He spotted Zoro instantly, conversing with Nami in a corner.

Suddenly, he tensed up.

What did he say? Was there a right thing to say? A wrong thing to say? Did Zoro even expect him to say _anything_? What if he had read everything wrong and was projecting his feelings onto the green-haired man? What if he made a fool of himself? What if—

It was _Zoro_ for crying out loud, just because he had kissed him the night before, didn’t mean Sanji had to get all weird. And yet Sanji was contemplating running out before anyone could spot him. He was just about to turn on his heel and leave, say that he had forgotten he had another engagement to attend to, when Nami spotted him.

“Hey, Sanji! Over here!”

_Well, fuck._

He had been hoping he could’ve gone longer without being found out, some time to develop a game plan ( _a game plan? Really?_ ).

It was strange how just a few minutes ago he was up and ready to nail into him— no, bad choice of words— he was ready to _talk_ to him, confront him on the night before and now he was wishing he could sink into the floor. His stomach knotted itself as he slowly approached them, his hands fisted in his pockets.

 _Breathe_ , he reminded himself. _It’s Zoro. Just Zoro_. But though his brain tried to convince himself it was nothing, his heart was saying something else entirely.

 _Just Zoro?_ it demanded. **_Just_** _Zoro? What the fuck, are you a lunatic? It’s_ ** _Zoro_** _, you’re nowhere near freaking out enough!_

 _Shut up,_ his brain snapped.

It felt like ages had passed when he finally reached them.

“Nice note, Marimo,” he said. Fuck, it was like his mouth had a mind of his own. No, wait, that was a good thing. He sounded casual. At least, to his own ears. He hoped. “Couldn’t have just texted me?”

“Would you have read it?”

Sanji took a seat next to Nami in answer. “So, why’re you here?”

“Why are _you_ here?”

“I don’t trust you to keep your blood inside your body. I thought you were a big boy, able to handle swords, but apparently not it seems.”

Yeah. Good. It was good this way. Maybe he should just surrender control of his mouth to whatever force was helping him sound natural. His mind was in too much of a mess right now anyway.

Nami giggled. “You two fight like an old married couple.”

“ _Old?_ ” Zoro demanded.

“ _Married?_ ” Sanji squeaked.

Nami laughed again, harder this time. When she finally got herself under control, she looked like she was all business. “Soooooooo, when do you two plan on fighting?”

“You can’t just plan our daily fights, they just … happen.”

“Normally because you say something stupid,” Sanji quipped.

“Honestly you two, did you give each other brain damage?” Nami shook her head. “I was talking about fighting against each other. You know, in the ring? I have tons of people anxious for it to happen.”

“Sorry to tell you this, but it ain’t happening any time soon,” Sanji said. “I don’t trust him not to impale himself. Idiot came home just two days ago covered in blood. What did you do, assassinate everyone?”

“No. They _wish_ I had killed ‘em.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle your own temper,” Sanji said with an eye roll before turning to Nami. “Where’s Luffy?”

“Oh, he just went upstairs a while ago to get us drinks. This guy over here,” she poked Zoro in the shoulder and he sent her a death glare, “still refuses sake.”

“I’m quitting,” Zoro reminded her for what seemed like the thousandth time.

“So I’ve heard,” Nami drawled. “It’s almost Christmas, don’t tell me you seriously plan on staying sober during the whole thing.”

“You just want me to crack so Usopp will give you his money,” Zoro said. “I thought you’d be more considerate, considering what he’s planning on doing.”

“What’s Usopp doing?”

“You remember Kaya? You met her last night.”

Yeah, Sanji remembered Kaya. She was a pretty young woman who was Usopp’s girlfriend. She laughed and played and Sanji had a hard time believing Zoro’s story about how she had been suffering from depression. “Nice girl,” he said absent-mindedly. “What about her?”

“Well, Usopp’s been thinking about … you know, _sealing the deal_ with her—”

“What, like sex?”

Zoro spluttered, his face turning red. “N-no! Why would you even think that?!”

“Well, married people have sex to consummate their marriage, right?Isn’t that ‘sealing the deal’?”

“Who uses words like consummate anymore?” Zoro scoffed, his face slowly returning to its regular colour.

“Was that word too hard for you?” the blond teased.

Nami laughed. “In order to consummate the marriage, assuming they haven’t already done it, what do you think Usopp’s missing?”

“A condom?”

“A _ring_ , Sanji.”

“Holy shit, he plans on getting _married_?!” Sanji gaped. “How old is he? He’s like what, twenty-one? That’s so _young_!”

“Yeah, but you know, me and Luffy have talked about it too,” Nami pointed out. “It might not even be a proposal, he might just want to get a promise ring, you know, those things that swear you’ll always be faithful? They’re practically the same thing as marriage, in which case, I’ve been married for a while now.” She flashed off a shiny silver ring on her left hand. “Luffy nearly lost it five times before he gave it to me, and apparently on one occasion, I nearly swallowed it.” She chuckled to herself. “He’s an idiot, but I love him anyway.”

“And that ring means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Zoro pressed. “Even if it isn’t an engagement ring, Usopp still wants to get her one and you know how expensive they are. He can’t do it if you keep robbing him dry!”

“I didn’t _rob_ him,” said Nami indignantly. “I asked if he wanted to gamble—”

“More like _threatened_ —”

“—and he agreed,” Nami finished, sending Zoro a look. “I don’t see how any of this is my fault.”

“Never mind, it's impossible to fix you.”

“Hey, Nami’s perfect!” Sanji cut in. “There’s no reason she needs to be fixed!”

Zoro gave him a strange look that, for the first time, Sanji couldn’t read, before changing the topic abruptly. “Where’s Luffy? Better yet, where’s Ace? I want to have another fight.”

“Oh, like the one you had with those shitty cooks weren't enough?”

“Shitty cooks?”

“Got into a fight,” said Zoro quickly, seeing the worry in Sanji’s eyes. “A little disagreement over a tab.” He shrugged. “Not that big of a deal.”

Sanji gave him a thankful smile but Zoro didn’t even look his way.

Maybe last night hadn’t meant what he had thought …

“HEY, GUYS!”

Luffy was running at them, a tray in his hand, trying to balance three drinks. “Hey, Sanji! When did you get here?”

“Idiot, pay attention to what you’re doing!” Sanji snapped, grabbing Luffy’s arm and taking the tray from him. He balanced the glasses perfectly and handed distributed them easily, placing the empty tray underneath his arm once he was done. He lit up a new cigarette and took a long drag. “Honestly, were you raised in a barn?”

Luffy scratched his head. “I don’t _think_ so …”

It was going to be a long day.

From the corner of his eye, he could Zoro. The swordsman barely looked his way and he wondered if the balloon of joy that had risen up in his chest since he woke up this morning was about to encounter a very sharp needle.

* * *

Sanji talked and laughed with the others but his heart wasn’t in it. Instead, he was watching the Marimo, hoping against hope that maybe it wasn’t just him the night before.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, for their eyes to meet and for everything to fall into place, for Zoro to look at him and just telepathically tell him that Sanji was worrying for nothing.

Had he been imagining it?

Sanji had been hurt before, far too many times. He had done exactly what he told himself he wouldn’t do.

He got attached. He got _very_ attached to Zoro and now he felt he was paying for it.

He excused himself when he couldn’t take it any longer.

He’d be packing his bags tonight.

* * *

 

He entered the shit-apartment and packed his bags, his feet feeling like lead.

He had started to call the guest room his own. He really was too comfortable in Zoro’s home. He should’ve known the whole thing was temporary. All good things were.

He wanted to walk out, before Zoro got back, so he wouldn’t have to face him. So Zoro couldn’t convince him to stay like Sanji knew he would. It would be better that way, if he just left without a word, without anything holding him back.

After the way Zoro had looked after him though, he couldn’t do that.

He brought his bags into the living room, placed them beneath the coffee table, to make sure Zoro knew that Sanji was leaving and he’d be free of him, and then collapsed on the couch.

He owed Zoro a thank-you at the very least for all his troubles.

He curled into the fetus position on the couch, the couch where Zoro kissed him ( _Forget about it, it didn’t mean anything, stop it, don’t torture yourself like that_ ) _,_ his heart aching.

A traitorous part of his told him he was overreacting, clearly Zoro felt the same. All his French words could be terms of endearment and Sanji just hadn’t understood because he didn’t speak the language.

His brain knew the truth.

There was no reason to believe Zoro wanted him. Especially since Zoro was so beautiful, so strong, so amazing. Like Moodie, Zoro should never settle for anything other than the best.

He heard the key turn in the lock.

Fuck no, Zoro was not allowed to be back yet! That would mean that he’d have to face him. He hadn’t prepared himself enough! He needed more time, more time to— to … fuck, what did he need more time to do? Pick up the broken pieces of his heart? He’d probably never have enough time for that.

“Hey,” greeted Zoro, entering the apartment. He dropped his gym bag on the floor, grinning.

_Don’t look so happy, not right now. Not when I’ve just barely come to terms with the fact that my whole world just fucking shattered._

“You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” Zoro went on. He stopped next to Sanji and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before going into the kitchen and took out a water bottle from the fridge.

_What the fuck was that?_

“Pardon?”

No, he was _not_ allowed to do that! Not while Sanji was trying to mope, he couldn’t give him things that made him misinterpret things, he wasn’t allowed to! That went against the recovering from a broken heart rule book! Right? He was going to say good-bye to Zoro tonight, he wasn’t allowed to make this even harder for him.

“There were some real shit-heads at the gym today. Tried to get all up in my face, thought they were _soooooo_ cool just cause they could handle the treadmill’s highest setting.” Zoro scoffed. “Fucking naive bastards.”

He took a seat on the couch next to Sanji, who was scrambling to process everything. What was going on? Wasn’t last night just a fluke?

“Zoro, what are you—”

“Why isn’t the TV on? Your anime’s on tonight, right? Fuck, what’s it called … _Fullmetal Bitch_?”

“ _Alchemist_ ,” Sanji corrected him on impulse. “ _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, FMA_ just plain sucks in comparison to the manga. Wait, no!”

“No what?” Zoro raised an eyebrow. “It’s really _Fullmetal Bitch_? I thought it was a kid’s show, what’s with the language? I mean sure, he lost some limbs, but—”

“No! That’s now what I meant,” Sanji said, cursing himself for getting sidetracked. “I just … what the fuck was that?”

“What? I’m letting you watch your show, I’m too tired to fight over who gets control of the remote. I thought you’d be glad about it. Unless you want me to put on _Galley La_ , cause you know, they started teasing about Tom’s will last episode—”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Shit. He had _not_ meant to blurt it out like that.

“I mean, I uh … it’s just … I … STOP LAUGHING!”

Zoro covered his mouth, but the laughter was still escaping him.

“Are you always like this, and I never noticed?”

“I’m trying to be serious right now!”

“Why did I kiss you?” Zoro repeated, laying back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Yes, because I’m a fucking mind reader! _Seriously_ , Marimo?”

“I kissed you cause I wanted to, got a problem with that?”

“Got a problem with that?” Sanji repeated. “Fuck _yes,_ I’ve got a problem with that!”

“Hey Sanji, why’s the blond kid so short?”

“THIS IS NOT ABOUT ED’S INABILITY TO GROW!”

“Sanji?”

“ _What_ , Zoro?”

“Your face is turning all red. Just thought you should know.”

Sanji’s fist curled. Honestly, he wondered why it was that he was falling in love with the moss-brained idiot. Why was he still around? He should’ve just left before Zoro had come back, saved himself the headache. “ _Ahou!_ ”

Zoro stared at him in silence, waiting for something, the only sign of life in him was his occasional blinking.

When Sanji’s breathing went back to normal and his face returned to its usual pasty colour, Zoro broke the silence.

“Hey Sanji?”

Sanji turned to him. _In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat as many times as necessary._ He wouldn’t freak out, he wouldn’t scream. “ _What_?”

“You wanna bitch?”

“Do I want to _what_?”

“Bitch,” Zoro repeated. “Nag, complain, rant, whatever you want to call it. It’s your turn, isn’t it? I’ve already complained about my day.”

Ah, _that_ was why.

The blond sunk into the couch and took a deep breath. “Where … where do we stand?”

He tried to mentally prepare himself for every answer Zoro could throw at him, from being friends to being complete strangers.

“Well … where do you want us to stand, Love Cook?”

“I don’t care,” Sanji lied. He knew what he wanted them to be, he knew _exactly_ where he wanted to stand, but he wouldn’t say it. Not if this was just something temporary, not if Zoro was just experimenting.

“Well, where do you _think_ we stand?”

“We’re …” Sanji took a deep breath. “We’re … friends? No, that’s not right.” He shook his head. They were more than that. They weren’t in a relationship by any stretch of the imagination, but they had something deeper than friendship. “We’re … fuck, I don’t know, where do _you_ think we stand?”

“Me? I think we’re dating.”

If Sanji had a glass of water, he’d have done a spit take. Since he didn’t, he spat out the one thing he did have in his mouth, his cigarette. It fell on the floor. “WHAT?!”

“Can you not destroy the rug?” Zoro asked, bending down to pick up the cigarette. “Cause I actually paid money for that thing and— oh.”

Zoro turned to Sanji, his usually expressive face giving nothing away. “You’re leaving?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“The hell it doesn’t matter!”

Zoro saw the way Sanji tensed up at his raised voice. He took several calming breaths, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay wait. Hold on. Just … give me a minute.”

Give Zoro a minute?

Who did Zoro think he was, prancing into the apartment after basically ignoring Zoro the entire day, and kissing him on the cheek? He had the gull to say that they were dating? If anyone needed a minute, it was Sanji.

“Listen here, Marimo—”

“I think we’ve had some kind of misunderstanding.” Zoro sat on the couch again, refusing to look at the coffee table. He turned the TV off and leaned back. “I think … I made an assumption.”

“Fuck yeah you did! Since when are we dating?”

“I … I’m really not good at this sort of thing. I had assumed … I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought it was obvious but—”

“ _Obvious_? You call ignoring me the morning after kissing me obvious?”

“In retrospect, I realize that it was presumptuous of me—”

“Fuck yeah it was! How was I supposed to know anything changed? You weren’t acting any different—”

“I _told you,_ I’m not good at this!” Zoro sighed. “I just … I didn’t think I had to act different. I’ve never been … I’m not like a lovey-dovey person or whatever. I don’t do the serenading bullshit, I don’t feel like I have to, I just thought …” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I can be more romantic.” He leaned over to Sanji, his breath on his neck. His lips were on the sensitive skin of Sanji’s neck in a moment. He couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped his lips.

Ah. So that’s what he wanted.

Sanji shut his eyes and braced himself. “Just do it.”

Zoro stopped briefly, his breath ghosting over Sanji’s pulse. “Do what?”

“Fuck me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Zoro had never sprung away from his faster.

It hurt him inside, to know that Zoro found him so repulsive.

_Why wouldn't he find you repulsive?_

“W-what are you talking about?” Zoro demanded. Sanji understood his stutter as him admitting to being found out.

“Isn’t that what you’re after?” He closed his eyes tightly. He should’ve known. “I won’t fight you. Fuck me and send me on my way, I can find somewhere to live, it won’t be that hard.” He sucked in a breath, biting his bottom lip. He would _not_ break down, not in front of Zoro. Zoro had seen him in way too many vulnerable positions for Sanji’s liking. The tension was killing him though. “Why aren’t you doing it? _Just fuck me already!_ ”

“Sanji.”

Sanji felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. Fuck, and he had been trying so hard.

Why did he have to sound so sweet? So gentle?

“Sanji, I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Sanji opened a single eye and looked at him. “What?”

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Zoro repeated. “Who the fuck do you take me for? I know your story Sanji, you think I’d abuse you like that? That I’d fuck you and leave you on the streets to die?”

“I mean—”

“I’m disappointed in you,” Zoro said and Sanji didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. He knew it would kill him. “I thought you trusted me more than that. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“What other use would you have for me?”

“I’m not them, Sanji. Not everyone is like them.”

Sanji didn’t have to ask who “them” was.

“I know.”

“Then what reason do you have to believe that I’d do that to you?”

“I just …” His voice was trembling. He didn’t like it. He sounded weak. In front of Zoro of all people. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you fucking dare apologize,” Zoro said. “You don’t ever apologize to me, you understand me? Listen I … I’m not going to have sex with you. I don’t have any plans to have sex with you. Not until you tell me you’re ready. And if you’re never ready, I’m okay with that. Do I _want_ to have sex with you? Fuck yes, but I’m not going to make you do anything. I’m not that shitty. I’m not going to use you. I don’t _want_ to use you.

“I just want … I want a relationship with you, Sanji. I want stupid things like flowers and movie nights and someone to go out with on national holidays, even though they’re a social construct that exist to give corporations more money. I want someone to fight with, someone to do the weekend crossword with. I want all that sappy shit and I want it with _you,_ Sanji. Do you understand me? I want _you_. I don’t want your body, I can wait for that, I want you to want me.” He eyed the suitcase underneath the coffee table. “But, I get it if you don’t want it. I … shit, what am I doing? If you want to leave, just go—”

“Do … do you mean it?” He hated how small he sounded. “That you want me?”

Zoro was blushing. He wouldn’t meet Sanji’s eyes.“Maybe …”

“Zoro.”

Zoro sucked in a deep breath that made his entire being shake. “I just want you, Sanji. But listen, I don’t want you to be stuck here, you shouldn’t feel trapped. I sometimes get the feeling that I’ve forced you to be here, and that you’re staying out of obligation,—”

“What if you knew I wasn’t here because I felt obligated to be?”

“Then …” Zoro’s eyes were hopeful, so fucking hopeful it broke Sanji. “Then I’d want nothing more than for you to stay.”

“Okay.” He took a shaky breath, trying to calm his racing heart beat. “If you want me, you have me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Zoro kissed him then, suddenly and out of nowhere. Sanji let out a gasp of surprise, and then Zoro was off of him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I—”

“Do it again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again.”

“Are you sure?” Zoro was being shy. His hesitancy to reach out for Sanji was all Sanji needed to know the swordsman was telling the truth.

“Yes, idiot. Kiss me again.”

This was something new, something different, but something Sanji was willing to welcome with open arms. For as long as Zoro wanted him there.


	25. Iridescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Lots of talk about sex at the beginning (blame Nami)  
> Dirty talk (of like a triggering kind? It's hard to explain)  
> Mentions of bullying  
> Mentions of past self-harm  
> Very vague mention to past rape

> _“Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss…. But every once in a while, you find someone who's iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.”_
> 
> —Wendelin Van Draanen, _Flipped_

“You had sex.”

“Wrong,” Zoro said with a roll of his eyes as he took a seat across from Nami. “Couldn’t be more wrong.”

“You’re glowing though,” Nami accused. “That’s not just any ordinary glow either, that’s the ‘I just fucked the brains out of someone and am still in orgasmic heaven’ glow!”

“I ate Sanji’s pancakes this morning. Maybe that’s why.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Nami, you’ve had his food. You know it’s climax worthy.”

“It might be, but you have Sanji’s breakfast every morning. And besides, why would he make pancakes, unless he was celebrating something? Something like _sex_!”

“I did not fuck anyone,” Zoro deadpanned.

“But did you _get_ fucked?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Nami leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I know how gay sex works. It’s anal and since you both have dicks, you can fuck each other.”

“If you wore a strap-on, you could fuck Luffy just as easily.” He froze. “What’s with that look in your eyes?”

“Nothing,” Nami said in a voice that quite clearly said it was _not_ nothing. Zoro didn’t want to know what she was thinking. The witch’s secrets were secrets for a reason. “Okay fine, let’s say hypothetically you _didn’t_ have sex—”

“Which I _didn’t—_ ”

“— then explain why you're glowing!”

Zoro snorted. “I’m not glowing.”

“Liar. Luffy!” Nami called her boyfriend over to their table. “Is Zoro glowing?”

Luffy was jumping on the balls of his feet, but he steadied long enough to look at Zoro. “Yeah." He tilted his head. "Congrats on getting laid last night.”

“Why does everyone think that?!”

“It’s the glow.”

“Say I _am_ glowing,—”

“Which you are.”

“— who says it’s a sex glow?”

Nami sighed dramatically and grabbed her boyfriend’s hand tightly, to keep him from jumping. “Luffy, is it a sex glow?”

“Definitely.” He gave Nami a kiss on the forehead and let go of her hand. “I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a fight right after these people. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Captain.”

Zoro gagged, watching Nami pull Luffy by his shirt to give him a quick kiss.

“I’ll be betting on you.”

Once Luffy had left to warm-up, a stupid smile on his face, Nami turned back to Zoro.

“Okay, if you didn’t have sex, then something else happened. Something to do with Sanji?”

Zoro crossed his arms.

“Sanji and kissing?”

The swordsman turned his head away.

“You know I can still see you blushing, Marimo.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sanji calls you that.”

“Yeah well he’s …” Zoro searched for a word. “Different.”

“You mean special.”

“Whatever makes you happy, bookie.”

“You kissed Sanji, didn’t you?” Nami asked, brushing off the comment. “And something came out of that, right? Oh my God, Zoro, are you dating Sanji?!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“It’s no big deal,” Nami said, rolling her eyes. “Not everyone here’s interested in your love life, Roronoa.” She leaned across the table, resting her head in her hands, batting her eyelashes, a shit-eating grin on her face. “So …?”

“So what?” Zoro asked. “And stop that, it’s not cute, it's creepy. Looks like you have gunk in your eye and you’re trying to get it out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I care about that. So you guys are dating, huh?”

“Maybe …”

“That translates to yes in Zoro-language. So how is it?” Nami asked. “You guys seem to have so much chemistry. Did it just like, _explode_ and you ripped each other’s clothes off?” She whistled and fanned herself. “God that’d be hot.”

“Does your boyfriend know you have a gay fetish?”

“It’s not a fetish.”

“Sure, _fujoshi_ ,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business anyway. We still haven’t gotten everything figured out yet …”

“I guess you could say there are some kinks to negotiate?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Zoro-kins!”

“Bite me.”

“Why would I when I have Sanji to do that for me?”

Zoro frowned. “It’s not … Sanji won’t be biting me anytime soon, I don’t think.”

It doesn’t really bug him, not really. The Sanji not biting him thing. But the reason behind it does. “There are still some … complications.”

“Complications?”

Zoro bit his bottom lip. “Nami, what do you think of Sanji?”

The redhead looked slightly taken aback. “I mean, he’s nice. Good manners, even if he swears way too much. He’s good. A bit of a flirt, but I mean, no one’s perfect.”She gave Zoro a funny look. “Where are you going with this?”

“What about physically? What do you think of him physically?”

“He’s handsome,” replied Nami. “Nice long legs, not a bad dresser either. He’s got smooth hands too …”

“You have a promise ring, remember?”

“I know that!”

“So in short, you think he’s attractive." Zoro shouldn't have been getting jealous, he was the one who had asked Nami to talk about Sanji like this in the first place. He knew the blond was attractive.

“Well yeah, he’s gorgeous!”

“So you don’t think he’s ugly?”

“For goodness sake Zoro, you’re dating a fucking Adonis!” She frowned, seeing the expression on Zoro’s face. “What’s this about?”

“It’s just …” Zoro shook his head. “I don’t think he realizes he does it, but … Whenever I hug him or just put my arms around him, he … he sucks in his breath. Fuck, Nami, he sucks in his breath and he won’t _fucking breathe_ until I let him go. He …” Zoro’s hands began to unconsciously shake. Fuck those cooks, what they did to Sanji … Just thinking about it made his blood run cold.

“Zoro, do you think Sanji sees himself as—”

“No.”

As much as he hated to remember the look on Sanji’s face when he told Zoro he was a train-wreck, he said he was a skinny. He said you could see his bones. He knew he wasn’t fat, _he knew that_. So why did he tense whenever Zoro tried to hold him? Was it Zoro? Did he make him uncomfortable? No, Sanji would tell him if that was it. What was it then? Fuck, _he wanted to know._ He wanted to know so he could fix this mess and Sanji wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Was he ashamed of himself? Of his appearance?

_I need to fix this. How do I … how do I convince him? How do I get him to see himself the way I do?_

He sighed and let his head hit the table, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not cut out for this shit,” he muttered. “I am so _not_ cut out for this …”

_BANG!_

Zoro blinked, the table shaking underneath his head. He looked up to see Nami, her hand clenched. “Who the fuck are you?”

She was getting that look in her eye that meant trouble.

“Nami, don’t do this.”

“I  _said_ who the fuck are you?”

“I don’t need a pep talk,” Zoro insisted. “I _really_ don’t.”

“I’m not going to stop until you tell me who the fuck you are.”

"Zoro."

She shook her head. "Nope. Not good enough! C'mon, tell me who you are! Who are you  _really_?"

"This is not a movie, I'm not about to stand up on a table and do some embarrassing shit, okay? Do you understand me, woman? You can boss Luffy around, but I'm not—"

"TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!"

Zoro huffed. "This is so stupid."

"DO IT NOW!"

“R-Roronoa Zoro."

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

“WHAT?”

“I’M NOT FUCKING SCREAMING MY NAME TO YOU!”

The entire bar fell silent. Luffy, in the middle of punching his opponent, froze momentarily. “Oh fuck, not this again!” He spun around, glaring at the invasive eyes. “What are you looking at?” They backed off fairly quickly.

“Why scream your own name when you’ve got Sanji to do that for you?” the evil little witch asked, a stupid grin on her stupid face.

Zoro glared. “The whole bar thinks I’m crazy thanks to you.”

“They already thought that,” said Nami, waving him off. “It’s no big loss. But seriously, you’re Roronoa Zoro, kendo champ, kenjutsu master!”

“I wouldn’t say _master_ …”

“Cut the bullshit.” Nami rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the point is you’re a martial arts genius, a prodigy in sword fighting. Surely you can figure this out, can’t you?”

"But you said it yourself! I'm a _kenjutsu_ prodigy, I know how to swing a sword. Big deal. I can protect someone from an oncoming enemy, as if we live in the feudal period, whoop-dee-do. What about saving people from _themselves_?" Zoro demanded. "I'm not Superman, I can cut down a tree, but that doesn't mean I can cut down Sanji's inner demons."

The biggest monster to defeat would be Sanji's own self-esteem. It was a big problem, one that he doubted Sanji understood was bad for him, but he didn't know how to tackle it. He didn't even know where to start.

"I'm an idiot with a sword, Nami. What the fuck do I know about matters of the mind?"

There was silence.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You … you can be really sweet when you want to be.” Her voice was soft and sincere. “Sanji’s a lucky man.”

“He’d be ten times _luckier_ if I could figure out how to get rid of those fucking delusions of his,” Zoro muttered. He took a deep breath, knowing he was going to regret the next words that came out of his mouth. “What would you do if someone you knew had low self-esteem?”

Nami blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

“Are you ... asking _me_ for advice?”

Zoro's eyes narrowed. “Look, can you give me an answer or not?”

“You are! Roronoa Zoro is asking _me_ for advice!” She laughed. “Oh God, this is great!”

Zoro stood up, pushing out his chair. “If you’re going to laugh at me, I can go elsewhere. You’re not the only one I can try to get advice from.”

“Do you really not know how to help him?” 

“Do you think I’d be asking you if I knew?” Zoro demanded in a huff. God, he was never asking the woman for advice ever again.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

"Clearly not to me."

Nami drummed her fingers along the table for a moment. She tilted her head, like she was thinking, calculating.

"Are you about to charge me for advice?"

She shook her head. "I'll give you the high-off-a-new-relationship discount, free of charge, just this once. But God, you're hopeless. It's simple. Compliment him. Tell him what you like about him. Boost his ego a bit."

Zoro blinked.

"That's it?"

"That's it," Nami confirmed.

It sounded way too simple to be true. Complimenting Sanji couldn't be that hard, right? Though, if he was being honest, he didn't know where to start. What he'd say. He had no idea where to begin. "How the fuck am I going to do that ...?"  _She_ had never needed compliments, though he was sure she was an outlier, and it probably wouldn't have hurt their relationship if he had complimented her more often.

“You’re dating him, you have to like _something_ about the man. Didn't we already go over this?” She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. I’m sure you’ll figure something out, you’re not _that_ stupid.”

* * *

 

Correction: Zoro _was_ that stupid.

Zoro didn’t know much about complimenting people, but he was pretty sure telling them to brace themselves for a sparring match was not the way to go about it.

Fighting cleared his mind, as weird as that sounded. He grabbed his swords and couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he felt the balance of Shusui in his hand.

Sanji had gone out of his way to find the perfect gift for Zoro. There were so many components to the blond who had come so far since August. The swordsman had never sat down and really thought about what he liked about Sanji, he didn’t think anyone ever did those kinds of things. He could never point out exactly why he was friends with half of the people he hung out with, but he supposed he’d say it all came down to a pull, something that made being with them pleasant, no matter how ridiculous they were.

_Think. What is it about him?_

Sanji stood across from him, hands stuffed in his pocket as usual.

He looked so cool and confident like that.

The cook’s eyes held a challenge in them, so fierce and fiery, like the way the flames reflected in his irises when he was cooking a hot meal.

“Eyes.”

Sanji gave him a strange look, but he quickly recovered and went to deliver a blow to Zoro’s chest. Zoro dodged and thought a little harder.

What else did he like about Sanji?

“Skin,” he decided.

Sanji just seemed so … _sensitive_ to him. The way he had reacted to Zoro's fingers, it drove him absolutely insane. His skin was always so pale, it made him think of the moon. Whenever Zoro touched him, he felt like his own hand would stand out like a stain, so dark in contrast to the milky surface of Sanji’s body.

Sanji frowned, blocking Zoro’s dual swords attack with his foot.

“What are you muttering about?” he asked.

“Legs …”

Block.

“What the fuck, Marimo?”

Parry.

“Hands.”

Lunge.

“Answer me, dammit, you bastard!”

Zoro ducked to avoid a kick to the head before aiming a kick at the other’s ankle.

The cook dodged his attack and sent a glare in his direction. “What the fuck are you doing, idiot swordsman?”

“Voice. Definitely.”

Sanji frowned, a harsh kick coming to hit Zoro in the side. He tried to avoid it, but he missed. He staggered back, taking a moment to regain his bearings. “Hips.”

The more things Zoro said, the more pissed Sanji was getting.

After vaguely mumbling other things, such as “hair” (he received a roundhouse kick for this), “lips” (for this, he nearly lost his balls) and “flexibility” (a harsh kick to the gut that was unavoidable, no matter how Zoro bent himself), what really set Sanji off was when Zoro muttered “eyebrows”.

Instantly, Zoro got a kick to the face.

The green-haired man was pretty sure his nose was broken. Dazed, he looked up at the towering blond. It was dangerous to half-assedly fight Sanji.

The blond looked pissed, his fists curled at his sides. Had it been anyone else, Zoro would’ve taken this to mean he was about to have his lights knocked out of him. Instead, Sanji kept curling and uncurling his fingers, flexing them.

Sanji’s hands really were something. Agile and slim, nimble and delicate, but he had calluses and his fingers were so _long._ They had toughened by years in the kitchen, cutting up fruits and vegetables, needing dough, carrying large pots. They had scars on them, perhaps from screw-ups on the cutting board. Zoro didn’t want to think about the ones that were less of an accident.

Maybe Zoro was developing a hand kink?

Sanji was getting more and more red in the face. He loved watching the crimson spread across his light pigmented skin. It made him look flushed, like—

Sanji kicked him in the head again.

With that, he grabbed his blazer from he couch and slammed the apartment door loud enough for it to echo.

_I fucked up again, didn’t I?_

* * *

 

“What did you do to Sanji?”

“If I _knew that_ , I wouldn’t be asking _you_.”

Nami sighed and crossed her arms. “You can’t think of any reason you pissed Sanji off?”

“None.”

This was not the right answer.

“Roronoa Zoro, you better contemplate on what you did and fix it!” Her eyes turned a tad sad. “And after what you told me this morning …”

Zoro sat up straighter. “You know, don’t you? Why Sanji’s pissed at me?”

Nami scoffed. “Of course I know!”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So tell me what I did wrong!”

Nami shook her head. “It doesn’t matter that I know what you did wrong, it matters that you figure it out yourself. Otherwise, where’s the lesson in that?”

“Look, the guy I’m in a relationship with is now totally pissed at me and I don’t have a fucking clue why! At least give me a _hint_ , I can’t do anything if I don’t know!”

“You should know why he’s pissed at you—”

“Well, I don’t and there’s no changing that unless you fucking tell me!”

Nami sighed loudly, her hair fluttering up slightly. “You’re so pitiful.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me?”

“You _so_ don’t deserve this, but …” The redhead swirled the ice in her glass, glaring at it as though she could make it melt. “Sanji came by a while ago. He asked if it was common for you to mutter to yourself. I told him he should know better than me, he lives with you, but he insisted. Whatever you said really freaked him out. What did you say?”

“I was …” Zoro bit his lip. “I was complimenting him. Sort of.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?" Nami wrinkled her nose. "Either you were, or you weren’t.”

“I don’t know! I was just thinking about what I liked about him and I guess my thoughts just kind of … came out.”

“Did he _know_ you were listing things you liked about him?”

Zoro froze. “Wait, don’t tell me—”

“Fix this, Zoro. I don’t know much about Sanji’s past, but I can tell he’s been through hell before. If you hurt him, I swear, I’ll kill you.”

One look at Nami and it was clear she meant business.

“He doesn’t deserve to hurt like this.”

Zoro knew that. He knew that more than anyone.

* * *

 

“Let’s play a game.”

Sanji looked up from his dinner and stared at Zoro. “What?”

“Let’s play a game. You always play games with me, this time I propose a game.”

Sanji was looking at him like Zoro was about to bite his head off. “What kind of game?”

“We’re going to play a complimenting game,” Zoro said. “You compliment me and then I give you a compliment. We can’t repeat compliments we’ve already said to each other and the first one to run out of compliments loses.”

Sanji frowned. “You’re going to lose.”

“Come on, humour me. Let’s play.”

Sanji scoffed. “That isn’t a game, that’s an ego boost.”

“So? It doesn’t hurt to inflate someone’s ego a bit.”

Sanji frowned and looked down at his meal. “You _sure_ you want to play?”

“Yeah.” Zoro took a bite out of his food. Casual. He could do this casually. “Do you want to start?”

Sanji sighed, resigned. “Okay.”

Zoro wasn’t stupid, he could see the slight crease in Sanji’s forehead that he got when he was upset over something but didn’t want to say anything. He never wanted Sanji to feel like he couldn’t speak to Zoro.

Zoro knew it was stupid. The game was kind of ridiculous and as Sanji said, was nothing but an ego boost. But it wasn’t for Zoro. The only way to get Sanji to listen was to play along with his games sometimes, and so Zoro was going to play to the player.

“You going to start?”

“I’m thinking!”

“Is it really that hard to think of something you like about me?” asked Zoro with a light chuckle.

“Do I have to stick to anything in particular? Like, can I only compliment on physical things, or things like personality or something?”

“Anything is fair game,” Zoro said. “But you can’t repeat a compliment. Say, I dunno, you tell me you like my earrings, or, some shit like that, you’re not allowed to say you like my earrings again. I’m allowed to tell you I like your earrings though, since I haven’t said it yet. If you wore earrings, that is.”

“You suck at explaining games.”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not a compliment.”

“Fine.” Sanji bit his lip and thought for a moment. It was adorable. “Your commitment towards your sword fighting.”

Zoro waited. When Sanji didn’t seem ready to tell him anything more, he said, “Elaborate. You have to elaborate on everything, in case the compliment isn’t clear.”

“What the fuck isn’t clear about liking your commitment?”

“Come on, for me?”

“Don’t bat your eyelashes, it looks stupid.”

Zoro laughed. “You’re back to insulting me, Cook. You’ve got such a silver tongue.”

Sanji grumbled some very creative curse words under his breath, before sighing. “I like your commitment towards kenjutsu because … because you rarely see it now a days.

“People always want instant gratification. Don’t think I haven’t heard Usopp going off about how you want to beat this Mihawk guy. You’ve been at this for a long time. It’s refreshing to know that you can commit to something so whole heartedly. I think the longer it takes you, the more you want to beat him.” Sanji shook his head. “I don’t know, it’s just … it’s nice?” he finished lamely.

It was impossible to hide Zoro’s grin.

“Oh shut it,” Sanji snapped. “I told you, this is just boosting your ego.”

“It’s my turn.”

“Good luck,” Sanji muttered.

_Hmm … where to start?_

“Your passion for cooking,” Zoro decided. “Your eyes just totally light up when you're in the kitchen. Have you ever seen yourself cook?”

“That’d be kind of hard,” Sanji said with a light chuckle.

“I should video tape you next time. You just … it’s in everything you do when you’re in the kitchen. You totally lose yourself in it, which is the main reason why I still don’t know how to make shit. It’s the way you take it so seriously, you’re like a perfectionist when it comes to cooking. I can tell you’re really doing what you love. You put everything into every meal you ever serve and maybe that’s why your meals are better than anyone else’s.”

“I’m not the only passionate cook in the world you know.”

“And I’m not the only committed swordsman. Your turn.”

Sanji was still blushing when he gave Zoro his next answer. “You’re stubborn. Remarkably stubborn.” He had a ghost of a smile on his face as he spoke. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You’re very persistent—”

“Wouldn’t most people call that annoying?”

“Not if they needed it as desperately as I did. I’m glad you came when you did. I don’t … I don’t know where I’d be without you, what I’d be doing. Maybe I’d be lying dead in some alleyway …” Sanji let out a short laugh but Zoro knew there was nothing funny about the cook’s comment. “You were the intervention I needed, I just didn’t realize it. You were the catalyst that pushed me forward.”

“That’s what catalysts tend to do you know,” Zoro said with a small smile.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you—”

“Don’t," Zoro insisted. "I don’t want your thankfulness. It was nothing, really.”

“That’s a lie,” Sanji said. “Looking after more than just yourself, that’s—”

“Look, as much as I may have affected your life, you've affected mine just as much, if not more.” _More than you know._ “It’s normal, every relationship you have affects you differently. I changed a bit when I met Luffy, Nami, all my friends really. I have to say though, you’ve probably made the biggest impact on my life in such a short amount of time. Now, shall I build up your ego? It’s my turn.”

It was clear from the look on his face that Sanji didn’t believe Zoro could come up with anything else.

Well, Zoro just had to prove him wrong, didn’t he?

“I really your clothes. Don’t even ask me why, but that blazer makes you look really sophisticated. Where’d you get the golden buttons anyway?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Zeff got for me at one point. Had it since I was nineteen.”

“And it still fits?”

“Yeah …” Sanji shook his head, as though trying to get rid of some of his thoughts before continuing. “Your earrings.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask, I don’t know why. They’re just …” Reaching across the table, the blond’s fingers gently skimmed over the golden earrings. It sent shivers down Zoro’s spine. “I don't even know. I’m not a big fan of jewellery on men, earrings seem so … impractical, know what I mean? Especially given your lifestyle. But they suit you. I know they should probably make you look fierce and intimidating, but I don’t think they do. Not to me at least. They just … complete the whole look.”

“The whole look?”

“The Roronoa Zoro-chic style.” Sanji shrugged. “I just can’t imagine you without them and I kind of don’t want to.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, your turn.”

Zoro blushed. “I really love it when you swear.”

“Huh?”

“There’s just something about it that I can’t quite place my finger on. Maybe I just like dirty talk.”

“Dirty talk?” Sanji squeaked.

“Yeah. You know, like …” He was in a relationship with Sanji, he should be allowed to tease him a little bit, right? He layered his voice on thick, making it low and husky. “My cock’s so hard for you right now. Do you like that? Knowing how fucking horny you make me?” He leaned across the table, whispering in Sanji’s ear. He felt the blond shudder. “Just want to lay you down and take you. I’d fuck you so good, you’d scream for me. So fucking loud. And I bet you’d want to hide your voice, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t let you be quiet, not around me. No, I’d want everyone to hear you, know that you were _mine,_ that your ass belonged to _me_ , you’re _my_ slut—”

“Stop.”

Zoro froze.

He sat back down in his own seat. He’d have to be blind to miss the way Sanji trembled.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Sanji shook his head, but he couldn’t make his mouth work.

Zoro took it as a yes.

“Listen, I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories, I … I got kind of carried away, I—”

“Do you really think that?” Sanji croaked out.

“Think what?”

“Think I’m … I’m …” Sanji’s bottom lip trembled. He was shutting himself in, curling into a ball in his chair. Zoro never wanted to be the cause of it again. “I … you said I wasn’t …”

_Shit._

“No, no of course I don’t think that! You have to know that! I … fuck, uh …”

Sanji looked panicked for having put Zoro on the spot, but that was nothing to how Zoro felt. “I don’t … I’m sorry—”

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“It’s just—”

“Just nothing, I overstepped, and I’m sorry. Stop me before I get like that again, okay?” Zoro’s brow furrowed. He should've _known_ , he shouldn't have let it go that far. “You should be able to feel safe around me.”

“I … I didn’t mind it before," Sanji said quietly. "I mean, before you said _that_. I … It’s just …”

“Hey, don’t force yourself,” Zoro said softly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, okay?” Sanji was clearly still trembling. Zoro didn't know if he should touch him when he was like this, so he kept his hands to himself. They’d have to draw proper boundary lines, Zoro didn’t ever want to make Sanji do something he didn’t want to, accidentally or otherwise. Zoro cleared his throat.

“I uh … I really like your hands.”

Sanji lifted his head up slowly.

“No, wait, I have thought about the issue a little more, and have decided that I _love_ your hands," said Zoro firmly.

“Psh, you just love the food they make you.”

Good. He was reacting normally now.

“No, for tons of reasons, none of which have to do with your cooking. Like say, you couldn’t smoke if you injured one of your hands.” Zoro paused. “Then again, knowing you, you’d figure it out somehow. You’d probably hold that cigarette with broken fingers, acting like it was nothing like a fucking badass. We wouldn’t be able to fight over the remote if you couldn’t use your hands. You couldn’t grab my hair like you do.” Sanji blushed. “And I wouldn’t be able to do this …” He tentatively reached out and placed his hand over Sanji’s. The shaking stilled. His hands were so cold. He gently rubbed his thumb over Sanji’s knuckles. “And yeah, you wouldn’t be able to cook either, which would be kind of shitty.”

Sanji pulled his hand away, laughing. “Of course, it always comes back to the food, doesn’t it?” He rolled his eyes, but he was still worrying his lip. The tension had left him slightly, but it was clear he was still on edge. “I like the way you fight with everything you have.” It came out like a whisper. “It’s so … you have so much power and confidence when you fight. I don’t know, I just feel like when you fight, you’re always on the offensive while your opponent has to be on the defensive, without a single opening—”

“Hey, I need to defend myself plenty when I fight you.”

“Yeah, well …” Sanji shrugged. “You just have this graceful way of fighting. You make it look so easy …”

“I might just teach you how to fight with some swords,” Zoro said. “I think you’d be good at it. You handle the knives pretty well.”

“Knives and swords are _not_ the same thing.”

“Maybe not, but they’re both sharp and can cut someone down, can’t they?”

“So can words.” It was clearly meant to sound teasing, but the dark look in his eyes betrayed him.

“I like your hair,” Zoro said, reaching across the table in an attempt to brush aside Sanji’s bangs. Sanji backed away from him and Zoro pulled his hand back, chuckling softly. “I think it’s unique. I don’t know many blonds. In fact, I’m sure I could count them all on a single hand. It’s something different from the norm.”

“I’ve been made fun of for it,” Sanji said softly.

“Well, fuck them. That's the way it always is, isn’t it? I’ve been given shit about my hair too. I got yelled at in school cause they thought I dyed it and when they found out it was natural, they got even more pissed and told me I had to dye it.” He shrugged. “That’s how people are. They see something different, something that’s not the norm and they get scared. They get scared and instead of confronting their fear, they try to crush it, make it disappear so they don’t have to face it.”

“Does … does it scare you?”

“Sanji, I love your hair.”

“Do you even hear half of the bullshit that you’re saying?” Sanji shook his head. “God …”

“It’s your turn,” Zoro reminded him.

“I know that!” Sanji bit his bottom lip. “Your tan. I don’t know, I know a lot of pale people but you just seem so tanned naturally, to the point where it’s _un_ natural.” He shrugged. “It’s subtle, but it’s obvious at the same time. You’re tanned, but you’re not overly-tanned that it looks like it came from some cheap spray bottle.”

“Your voice.”

“My voice?”

“I like hearing your voice. I think it’s the pitch or tone of it, or something technical like that, but I really like the sound of your voice. It’s like … it’s like the kind of voice that you could drown in, the kind of voice you want to make love to.”

Sanji coughed, turning his head away. He was totally a tomato. “You called me old school? Who uses the term ‘make love’ anymore?”

“Fine, hearing your voice makes me want to fuck it,” Zoro said. “You know what? I think that sounds even kinkier.”

“You’re such a pervert!” Try as he might, Sanji could not get rid of the blush that was quickly spreading. Zoro loved watching it. It would start at his cheeks and then make it’s way down his neck, dipping below his shirt. It was mesmerizing. “Um … your hair. It doesn’t look soft, but it kind of is. Just a tad prickly, otherwise it’s totally soft.”

“Your eyes. I love your eyes. They’re just … do you know they remind me of the ocean?” He smiled. “They remind me of the sea. When the waves are calm and also when they’re choppy and crazy and send sailors’ to their deaths, plummeting to the deep depths of the ocean. You said your eyes didn’t have any depth to them. You’re wrong Sanji, you’ve never been more wrong.”

“I like your eyes too,” Sanji said softly. “They’re … they’re a very unique colour. I thought they were grey, but they’re not. They have this hazel colour too, it’s like a kaleidoscope.”

Zoro chuckled. “Those things always make me dizzy.”

“So do your eyes.”

Zoro wasn’t sure if Sanji realized what he had said, but he decided not to mention it, for fear that Sanji would take it back.

“Your eyebrows,” Zoro said. “Don’t explode on me, I swear. It’s weird but … I really like your eyebrows. They’re fucked up, I know, but like you said about my earrings, it’d be weird if you _didn’t_ have them. They just … I don’t know, I like them. Don’t get me wrong though, I still think they’re the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen, but I don’t know, I’ve just … gotten used to them I suppose?” He shrugged. “Your turn.”

“Um …” Sanji seemed deep in thought.

“Running out of things already?”

“No!” Sanji snapped. _Always so competitive,_ he mused. “I like the way you try to help Nami stop gambling. It’s just very … considerate, you know? I think it’s sweet that you want to help her.”

“Yeah, tell her that, the fucking bitch,” Zoro muttered, much to Sanji’s amusement.

"Stop calling her a bitch."

"I'll stop when she stops being one," Zoro said, rolling his eyes as Sanji pushed him in the shoulder. "Now, will you let me go on about how much I love your fucking legs?"

"My legs?" Sanji echoed.

"Yeah, they're so strong," Zoro said, itching to reach out and run his hand along Sanji's calves, the bend of his knee, his thigh, but he held back. He didn't know what was allowed or not.

"But they're almost too long for my body," Sanji said. The leg that had been gently tapping against Zoro's for the entire conversation retreated back. "They're disgusting."

"Are you kidding me? They're gorgeous!" Zoro shook his head. "They're strong and powerful, they're muscular. I've always been more of an ass and leg man," he said with a shrug. "Girls would  _kill_ to have your legs. They're part of what make you so strong, they're a large part of your power. And besides, long legs are fucking sexy, don’t you know?”

“Your muscles,” Sanji blurted out.

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “My muscles?” 

“Yeah,” Sanji said, clearly embarrassed. “They’re not bulgy and weird, they’re like … they’re like your tan. They’re there, you can’t deny them, but they aren’t excessive. They make you look strong, but you don’t look overly-muscular. You’re more finely toned or something like that. Fuck, I don’t know, you have abs!”

_Can he turn any redder?_

“Your skin,” Zoro said. “You’re very sensitive.” He gently caressed Sanji’s cheek before letting go. He didn’t want to push any barriers too harshly, for fear of Sanji backing away. He couldn’t screw this up, he wouldn’t let himself. “I like it, how you seem to just be so aware of everything and anything that touches you … Plus, you have really smooth skin.”

“I like your smile,” Sanji said, getting a bit bolder. “It’s … I don’t know, you don’t smile a lot, did you know?”

“You don’t either.”

“Yes well, I don’t know, you just smile in this way that … It’s just different from seeing others smile. It’s genuine.”

“Your strength,” Zoro declared. “You are _so_ strong Sanji.”

He reached for Sanji’s hand again, this time holding it palm facing the ceiling. His fingers brushed against the faint white scars across his wrists, feeling every callus under his fingertips. He didn’t stop to think too much about the scars. He wasn’t sure if he was just overly aware of Sanji, but he made sure he lingered long enough to let Sanji know he wasn’t disgusted by them, but not too long that he’d think he was fixated on them. He didn’t want Sanji to think he saw him only as a victim of abuse, because he was so much _more_ than that.

“You’ve been through so much and you’re still here, you’re still breathing. That you lasted so long, that you still haven’t given up yet …” He trailed off. “You’re amazing, you know?

"Patty, Carne, I could’ve never braved through that. I might be strong, but I’m only that way because I have others I can fall back to when it gets bad. You’ve been strong for so long on your own … And I know it hurt you, I know that, but … God Sanji, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?” He raised his hand to Sanji’s face, still holding onto his hand with his other. He let his fingers trace the contours of Sanji’s lips, watching as they parted slowly. “It has to be a sin,” he said softly. “You’re so, _so_ beautiful …”

And then Zoro kissed him.

The dinner was long forgotten— it had probably gone cold anyway— and now all Zoro was focusing on was the feeling of Sanji’s lips against his own. Hearing the small sounds he made, the small intakes of breath, the soft, quiet gasp. He was so glad he was able to do this, that he was able to be like this with Sanji.

He hadn’t had something like this in so long, not since Her. He hadn’t dared to try. Sanji may think he was the only one healing, but he would be wrong. Every day with Sanji made it just a bit easier to deal with the fact that She wasn’t here.

God, she would’ve loved Sanji to pieces.

Sanji pressed against him a little more as Zoro gently bit Sanji’s bottom lip. He let out a gasp and Zoro slowly entered his mouth. He tried to pull him closer, but he knew that even if they were pressed against each other without even a trace of air between them, it still wouldn’t be close enough. Not for him.

Zoro would not cry. He was above crying. But it felt so good to have someone again like this. Sanji shouldn’t have to deal with him falling apart if he thought about Her too much. He’d be fine.

One day he was going to tell Sanji about Her.

Not today though.

It was when he couldn’t breathe anymore that he finally let him go.

“I like your lips,” said Zoro softly. “I win.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Sanji woke to a piece of paper which was stuck to his forehead. It read:

_Love Cook don’t expect me to be all sentimental and shit like I was last night all the time. But just in case you’re a fucking moron or get amnesia or something, I’ve made you a list so you don’t forget._

The paper went on to list all of the things Zoro had complimented him on the night before, along with many other things he hadn't mentioned.

Sanji never lost the paper. Ever.


	26. A Gift To A Swordsman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GUYS  
> GUYS  
> IT'S HAPPENING  
> CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ACTION IS HAPPENING  
> (also there's no way they won't be awkward as hell about literally everything. This fic is FULL of really awkward sex conversations/laughing your way through the awkwardness, because I find that to be the most endearing form of sex. If that's not your thing, than you can skip it over (though I like to think I make the dialogue worth it), just skip from “You’re a dick.” to “I … I feel dirty.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, there's a cameo/not really a cameo appearance of a character from another anime in here. Because I couldn't resist. Can you guys name him?

Zoro was _not_ allowed to do that.

He wasn’t allowed to be remarkably sweet one day and make Sanji feel indebted to him. As though taking him in hadn’t already made Sanji feel as though he owned the swordsman just about everything—his life included— for acting on his hero complex. It wasn’t _his_ fault that the green-haired Marimo had an obsession with saving people.

On his desk, there was now a list written in Zoro’s messy handwriting, naming all of his favourite things about Sanji.

Half of them were lies, but he knew if he brought it up to Zoro, the swordsman would fight him tooth and nail.

Fuck, what could he give him that would even _begin_ to show half of his gratefulness towards him? Zoro had told him he didn’t want his thanks, but that didn’t erased Sanji’s gratefulness. It was as though the swordsman thought he could do wondrous acts of kindness and expect nothing in return.

Fuck him for being such a nice citizen.

Sanji was standing in front of Luffy’s apartment, rolling on the balls of his feet. He had no idea what he was doing and a large part of him said he was going to regret his decision to come here, but that didn’t stop him from sucking it up and knocking on the door.

Maybe he shouldn't do anything. Zoro didn’t want to be repaid. Maybe he shouldn’t bother.

_But he bothered to get you out of there. He helped you, a totally lost cause and you’re better because of it. He’s saved your life, he’s helped you get back on your feet, he’s given you a place to call home, a roof over your head— he got you a_ **_fucking phone_ ** _for crying out loud! He gave you friends, he gave you shelter—_

_There’s no need to make it sound like he saved me from the brink of death._

_Didn’t he?_

His thoughts were cut off when the door opened.

Sanji was expecting Nami or Luffy to answer the door. Who he wasn’t expecting was—

“Usopp?”

The long-nosed man laughed. “Hey Sanji! I’m house-sitting for Luffy! What can I do for you?”

“But … where are Luffy and Nami?”

“They’re fighting over the new furniture they want to get,” Usopp replied. “See, the thing is, Nami says that Luffy takes up too much space on their bed, he sprawls himself all over it and she swears, he stretches like rubber, taking up the whole bed. So they’re going to get a new mattress.”

“Why are you er … you called it, house-sitting, right?”

“Oh me?” Usopp laughed again. “It was Nami’s idea. She decided that since I took down an entire army of freaky vikings on my own, unarmed and singlehandedly, I was better than any alarm system they could ever buy!”

“Right,” Sanji said disbelievingly. “I’ll come back later—”

“Oh come on, tell Usopp what’s the problem, I can help, I swear!” Usopp saluted to him. “Scout’s honour!”

“I find it hard to believe you were a scout.”

“Believe it anyway! Talk to me Sanji, what’s the big deal? Problems with a certain swordsman?” The blond didn’t like the way he quirking his eyebrow all suggestively.

“You mean the Marimo?” Sanji shook his head. “Why would I be having problems with him?” He was lying through his teeth. Unfortunately, living with Zoro had made him a worse liar. He hadn't had to lie in so long, it felt weird to and the words tumbled out of his mouth strangely. He threw in a fake grin to try and pull it off.

“Well, that would be cause you’re dating him, right?”

“Who told you that?”

“Nami. She got it out of Zoro,” Usopp replied with a big grin on his face. The curly haired man frowned, seeing the look on Sanji’s face. “Should I have not said that?”

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

The moment he got back to that shit-apartment, Roronoa Zoro could consider himself dead. He’d make sure to put thistles on the Marimo’s grave, they were prickly and spiky. It was perfect for the idiot. He’d make his friends write his eulogy because at that moment, he couldn’t think of a single redeeming quality of Zoro’s.

_Liar._

“Now, don’t do anything rash,” said Usopp, holding out his hands. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll talk?”

Sanji chewed on his cigarette, mumbling under his breath about how he was ready to fucking impale the bastard. Usopp guided him into the house against his protests. His manners kicked in and he took off his shoes once he was inside. He did the usual, leaning against the wall. It felt wrong to sit in Luffy and Nami’s apartment, regardless of how well he had come to know them.

“So what’s the problem?” asked Usopp, taking a seat on the couch. He reminded Sanji of those therapists who wore glasses with their hair tied up in a tight bun, a clipboard in hand as they muttered “yes” and “how does that make you feel?” before they piled you up high on drugs and sent you on your way.

Sanji’s chest felt tight as he exhaled his cigarette. God, was he seriously talking to _Usopp_ about this?

“How … how would you …” Sanji turned his head, trying to fight down the blush on his cheeks. It wasn’t his fault the room was so fucking hot. “You know … if you were to … uh, show … that you’re thankful towards … someone?” he trailed off.

He had done a few things for Zeff, sure, but those were easy things. Mastering new recipes, working harder, and the like were all simple things, things that he knew Zeff would appreciate him doing without being asked. Not burdening him with his problems was a necessity.

But Zoro … dear God, what could he do for Zoro?

There was so much the swordsman had helped him with and a dinner could never be enough to demonstrate his gratefulness.

Usopp grinned. “Oh! I know just the thing!”

“Really?”

“Well, there was this woman whose life I saved a few years back—”

“I’m not a fucking woman!”

“Calm down, I know you’re not,” Usopp said, shaking his head. “To display her gratitude, she gave me chocolate—”

“Zoro hates chocolate. Too sweet.”

Sanji made it a point to know all of Zoro’s preferences when it came to food.

“He doesn’t like chocolate?”

“Shouldn’t you already know this? You’ve known him longer than I have,” Sanji points out.

“I just thought he was really picky.”

Zoro was never picky when he ate Sanji’s food.

Usopp shook his head to clear his thoughts. “More to the point though, she would give me cards expressing her thankfulness—”

“Won’t work, Marimo’s too damn nice to think he needs to be thanked. Bastard.”

Usopp stared at him.

“What?”

“You may be the only person I’ve ever met who is _annoyed_ because someone was kind to them.”

Sanji crossed his arms. It’s not that he was _annoyed_ that Zoro had been so kind to him, it was that he didn’t know what to do with it. In the same way that Sanji hadn’t known how to respond to laughter or genuine smiles, he didn't know how to respond to kindness.

He hadn’t thought something as simple as expressing gratitude could be as hard as it was. Perhaps it was only hard because of the cooks. They had broken pieces inside of him that were beyond repair, and it was making his life more complicated. He was sure normal people could say “thank you” and be done with it but it didn’t feel like _enough_ after everything he and Zoro had been through.

“Sanji?”

The blond looked up, dragged out his thoughts.

“If you want my honest opinion, it really doesn’t matter what worked for me. You’re over-thinking it. What works for some people, doesn’t work for others. Similar to the way love doesn’t feel the same to everyone, we show our appreciation in different ways.

“I know it sounds cheesy, but it shouldn’t really matter what the gift is, should it? As long as it’s from the heart and the person receiving it knows that, doesn’t that show you care enough?

“Whatever you get Zoro, he’ll love it since you’re already putting this much thought into it. You just put aside your pride to ask for help, which takes big guts. You really want this to be something great for him, don’t you?”

“Well … yeah.”

Usopp didn’t know his past, he didn’t know the reason he was freaking out so much was because if Zoro’s good deeds towards Sanji each had a price labeled on them, Sanji would be bankrupt already. He didn’t know the extent of what Zoro had done for him.

“Then don’t worry. Do what you think he’d want.”

Sanji nodded, but he still felt uneasy.

“Hey,” said Usopp, putting a hand on Sanji’s shoulder. It was already indication enough of the effect Zoro had on him, that he wasn’t flinching under Usopp’s touch. “Relax. Zoro likes you. He really likes you to get in a relationship with you. I can count on one hand how many people he’s dated, and that’s including you. Whatever you do, he’ll love it.”

Sanji nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest increasing.

* * *

Lighting up another cigarette, he felt stupid standing in front of a flower boutique.

There was a tall man behind the counter with dark hair and blue eyes. He looked nice enough, but his height was making Sanji waver.

He didn’t really need to get flowers, those were too cliché, weren’t they?

Yeah. He could just turn back around and—

_Shit._

The man behind the counter spotted him.

He was waving at Sanji, beckoning for him to come in. Reluctantly, the cook entered the boutique, feeling his face catch fire.

“Can I help you with anything?” asked the man.

“You wouldn’t happen to sell thistles, would you?”

_See Sanji? This is what happens when you don’t filter, or prepare what you’re going to say. Or when you do anything. Idiot, the fuck do you think you’re doing right now?_

The man laughed. “Why would you want to buy a thistle?”

“Because it fits him perfectly.”

Green, prickly, but very pretty when they blossomed.

“Never mind, I’m just a bit lost—”

“Do you know the symbolism of thistles?” asked the man curiously.

“They have symbolism?”

“All flowers do.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Is a thistle _really_ a flower?”

“To the Scottish it is,” the man replied with a shrug. “They say that thistles represent pain, protection and pride.”

“Huh.” Sanji smirked. “Still fits.”

The man let out a laugh. “How about I help you? I’m sure we have something for him that isn’t as prickly or annoying.”

Sanji blinked. It appeared as though he was trapped in the flower shop. But more importantly — “You … you aren’t surprised that I’m buying flowers for a guy?”

The man shook his head. “No, I’ve got a male lover myself.”

“W-we’re not l-lovers!” He was trying (and failing) to keep his blush from rising on his cheeks.

_Lovers? Does he even know how embarrassing he is?_

“I’m sorry for making assumptions. How about some delphiniums?” asked the man, gesturing towards purple flowers that kind of reminded Sanji of violets. “Do you know what these symbolize?”

“Humanity’s ability to give things the stupidest names?”

The man shook his head. He didn't even look offended at Sanji’s insult. “These flowers represent the infinite possibilities that surround us, believing anything is possible.”

Sanji spotted roses out of the corner of his eye and frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, just …” Sanji tried searching for the right words. “Roses symbolize love, right?”

“Not always, but more often than not, yes. Why?”

“I know roses have soft petals and all, and they look pretty or whatever, but they're covered in thorns. Why would someone chose such a dangerous flower to be the symbol of love?”

The man blinked. “I don’t find it strange at all. It’s actually quite fitting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone searches for love because it’s beautiful, but the reality is, it’s a lot more than that. We fall in love with _idea_ of love, but in truth, it’s not beautiful. It’s hard. It’s difficult and risky, and you get hurt a lot of the time, but you’re still drawn in by the idea of this beautiful, painless love, that’ll fill you entirely. Love like that doesn’t exist.

“I know that everyone has their own vision of what love is, because it is different for everyone, and no one can really describe what love is, but I think its universally acknowledged that the love that we imagine in stories is very different from the love that we experience in reality.

“Because in stories, everything ends once the princess is kissed, but in real life, there is no final moment when you’re guaranteed a happily ever after. I don’t really think there’s a moment when you just _know_ you love someone either. It’s a process. And I think the process is really learning to fall out of love with the idea of love that you have, and coming to love the love that you have.

“I think it’s understanding that this person, they won’t be perfect, and you won’t be perfect either. You’ll get on each other’s nerves a lot, and it’s not never saying sorry, because you _always_ need to say you’re sorry. I think it’s wanting to say sorry. Because you don’t want to lose them. I think it’s enduring all the obstacles that someone sends at you, with someone by your side, who makes it all worth it in the end, that makes you glad that you got to face those challenges with them, not that you wished they hadn’t happened, but loving them because you overcame them together.

“Love is really just like a rose. It looks very pretty and it can even feel pretty, like its soft petals, but when you get closer, you realize the little bumps in the road, the thorns that every rose has, and you learn to move around them. You’re not always successful and it’ll hurt, but you accept the pain with the beauty. Besides, isn’t the pain part of the joy of falling?”

Sanji’s silence had the man blushing, trying to hide behind his bangs.

“Well, that’s what I think at least,” the man finished sheepishly, clearing his throat. “So sorry, I got distracted.”

“It’s fine.” Sanji’s voice sounded distant to himself. He shook himself out of his daze. “What would you recommend?”

“Every bouquet is different, and each one says something different,” the man said. “I can’t tell you what to put into your arrangement. It’s about what you want your flowers to say.”

“Well …” Was he really going to explain his story to a stranger at a flower boutique? “I’ve kind of been in trouble for the past few years— nothing illegal, I’m not mixed up with the yakuza or anything, but … Anyway I was in a really rough spot for a while and this guy just kind of … I don't know, he just helped me. Got me back on my feet. He … he saved me really. And I don’t know what to do for him.” Apparently, he was.

To try and ease his discomfort, Sanji’s eyes flittered around the shop, landing on two flowers. The pink one opened up like a rose in full bloom and the white one seemed reminiscent of a lily. “What are those?”

“The pink one’s a peony and the white one’s a Star of Bethlehem,” said the man. “They represent healing and hope respectively.”

“Wrap them up for me, will you?”

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Staring at the bouquet, Sanji felt stupid.

They looked stupid, shoved into a jar because the bastard Marimo didn’t even own a fucking vase. It felt _wrong_. Despite the thought that went into them, it wasn’t enough.

Too many people gave others flowers. In fact, that boutique shop employee had mentioned that when he had passed his proficiency exams, his lover had given him flowers to congratulate him. It was just so … _typical_.

He knew that he and Zoro weren’t typical so doing something so mundane left a sour taste in his mouth.

He wouldn’t take the flowers back, especially not after the time that employee had spent teaching him the “deeper meaning of flowers” and shit like that.

He needed something better, something more personal.

It seemed he’d be living in the kitchen once again.

As he worked, the list came back to him.

_Your hands._

He watched his fingers as they roughed up the dough.

As a cook, it would be a disaster should he ever injure his hands. He was certain he’d have a life crisis if he ever hurt them badly. Despite that, they didn’t seem very spectacular to him. It was what his hands could _do_ that was amazing, the meals and dishes that were created because of them, but he had seen Zeff do the same thing. That didn’t make his hands any different from Zeff’s.

Zeff had beautiful hands. Large, rough and callused after years of working in the kitchen. Sanji had at least another thirty years before his hands were even half as breathtaking as Zeff’s.

After putting the dough in the oven, Sanji leaned against the counter and felt a breeze. His arms felt chilly, and he realized he had absent-mindedly rolled up his sleeves before he had dug into the dough.

The scars were still there, and he knew they always would be. Faint, white reminders of who he used to be. He liked to think he was better than before, that Zoro _made_ him better.

The puzzling thing about the list was that among the many things Zoro had listed, his scars had been included.

_Why though? Why would you like something so ugly?_

He was ashamed of them, and nothing Zoro said could make him think otherwise. Zoro had battle scars, Sanji had ugly reminders of times he’d rather forget.

_Your strength._

Without the scars, would he had known Zoro? Would he be where he was today?

He hated his past, and though he had stopped going to Zoro about nightmares, they hadn’t stopped entirely. There was still a chance he’d wake up in a cold sweat, and he’d feel Patty’s fingers around his neck and he’d choke and have to collect himself. He was better at hiding it though.

Without his past, would he have been healed like this? Because though he hated the way he had gotten to know Zoro, he was so grateful for getting to know him at all. He was happy with his life, the way it was now, and he wondered if he’d ever have this if it hadn’t been for his scars.

He didn’t like the road it took to get where he was, but he was so glad he was here.

Perhaps his scars could stand for something else.

As he worked, other things came to him.

_Your flexibility_

_Your hips_

_Your passion for cooking_

_Your determination_

_Your smile_

_Your smirk_

_The way you hold your cigarette_

_The way you lick your finger before turning the page in a book you’re reading_

_The way you fight with everything you have_

_Your spirit_

_Your perseverance_

_Your ability to be immune to idiots_

_Your thoughtfulness_

_The way you say “pardon”_

_The way you think black is a colour (it’s not)_

_Your words games_

_Your fucked up eyebrows_

_Your analytical mind_

_How you let down your guard, just a little around me_

_The way you kick_

_Your humbleness_

_Your innocence_

Innocence.

Sanji didn’t believe he had any and yet Zoro claimed he did. He knew better than to argue with the swordsman.

When he was done cooking, he collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV. Using _Galley La_ as white noise, Sanji tried to get some sleep before Zoro got back.

* * *

When Zoro returned, he stared at the feast the same way he had stared at it the first time Sanji had made him one.

“What’s the occasion?” asked Zoro, dropping his gym bag on the floor and carefully setting aside his swords. He took a seat at the table, probably knowing if he argued, Sanji would force him into his seat anyway.

“Wanted to test out a few recipes.” Wow that sounded lame, even to him.

The swordsman merely shrugged and dug in after a hurried “ _itadakimasu_ ”.

Sanji sat across from him, watching him eat. He still felt as though Zoro’s table manners needed some work, but at least he had him thanking people for his meal before he ate now.

There was a nagging voice telling him that this still wasn’t enough. Sanji was starting to think nothing he did could ever be enough to repay the swordsman.

The two of them spoke about pointless things as Zoro ate. It almost felt as though nothing had changed, except for the occasional moments when Zoro asked Sanji to pass the salt or something and their fingers brushed. In those moments, Sanji remembered Zoro’s words.

When the meal was finished, Zoro thanked Sanji for the meal again and was about to leave the kitchen when—

“Oi, Marimo!” he called.

“Eh?” The swordsman turned around and gave Sanji a funny look. “What is it?”

“You going to help me clean up?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Zoro sighed and went with him to the sink. “Let me guess, you wash, I dry?”

“Don’t look so pissed, I’ll start to think you hate my company,” Sanji teased.

Zoro looked at him straight in the eye. “Never. Don’t even joke about that.”

Sanji gulped. He didn’t understand how Zoro could just say things like that without thinking. He looked down and started to scrub furiously at the plate.

“So what’s with the new decor?” asked Zoro, nodding towards the bouquet of flowers.

Instantly, the tension that seemed to hover in the air disappeared while Sanji recounted his story about how there was a giant of a man working at a flower boutique, talking freely about his sexual escapades with his older boyfriend. He didn’t mention the man’s insightful lecture on love.

“So what do those flowers mean?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, he told you that flowers meant something right? So what was the meaning behind those flowers?”

Sanji bit his bottom lip, cleaning the soap out of a glass. “Um, well, the pink ones represent healing,” he said softly. “And the white ones are a symbol for hope.”

Zoro swallowed thickly. “Sanji …”

Sanji turned his head away. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Marimo. I just decided the place needed something new. You need to get a fucking proper vase you know. That’s a fucking stupid jar I had to put them in.”

“It’s looks stupider cause you put flowers in it,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. “Did you seriously ask for thistles?”

“Why not?”

“Cause they’re prickly. That’d be like asking for a cactus.”

“Cacti need less management,” Sanji said. “Less water, less care.” He shrugged. “The Scottish like thistles.”

“Yeah and they believe in unicorns,” Zoro added.

“I bet if you went to Scotland, they’d worship you, thinking you’re a leprechaun.”

“Take that back!”

“Nope, it’s your fault for having green hair, Marimo!”

_SPLASH!_

Soapy water dripped down Sanji’s face, just missing his eyes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” he demanded. “I could’ve become blind!”

Zoro backed away at Sanji’s heated tone.

“You bastard! How well do you think that would’ve gone? Fucking blinding the person you’re in a relationship with?”

Zoro looked guilty. “I’m s—”

_SPLASH!_

Zoro wiped his face, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. “That was dirty, Cook! And if _I_ had been blinded?”

“You only need one eye to fight, don’t you?”

Sanji went back to washing his plate, but he was ready to retaliate if Zoro decided to splash him again. Maybe he’d grab a sponge and squeeze it over his head, or dump Dawn on him.

Nothing happened.

Sanji gasped in surprise as Zoro’s lips came down on his own out of nowhere, his hands slowly letting go of the plate in his hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered whether or not he had chipped, if not broken, the plate, but at the moment, the main thought that was taking over his mind was the way that Zoro was trying to pry his lips open with his tongue.

It didn’t matter that Sanji’s hands were soapy when they reached out for him, wrapping around his neck and gently pulling at the hairs at the base of his neck, bringing the Marimo closer to him. It didn’t matter that the dishes were forgotten or that Zoro’s neck was in a rather uncomfortable position (he didn’t seem to be complaining). All that mattered was the way he seemed to be teasing Sanji, biting at his lip, trying to get him to open up to him.

The moment Sanji parted his lips, Zoro dove in.

It would be stupid if Sanji didn’t put up a fight.

He pushed back against him, fighting for dominance. He felt Zoro’s hands on his hips and then he was being lifted up onto the sink’s ledge. He nearly fell over, but Zoro steadied him, pressing their foreheads together to take a breather.

“My pants are all wet now.”

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Zoro said with a grin, diving in for another kiss.

It wasn’t comfortable on the ledge, where he was overly aware that if he slipped, his ass would be in soapy, dirty dish water, and the swordsman’s face was wet from their little play-fight, but Sanji took it all in and loved every moment.

He could easily get addicted to Zoro’s kisses.

Sanji didn’t want to make it seem like he was counting, but he knew that he and Zoro had only had a few of these “deep” kisses and something fleeting like a kiss on the cheek wasn’t enough for him to fully sink into it.

Zoro took a step closer, a hand threading through Sanji’s hair. The blond pulled at the swordsman’s hair, directing him, when Sanji decided he was done with being the one who was uncomfortable. He pushed against Zoro’s chest gently. The man backed away instantly.

“Sorry, I—”

“I’m not telling you no, idiot,” said Sanji, rolling his eyes. He jumped down from the sink’s edge and pulled the confused green-haired man closer. “I just didn’t like the position.”

Zoro grinned widely and pulled him into a kiss again. He pulled him closer by his belt buckle and pressed him against the kitchen’s island.

“Stop smiling,” Sanji chuckled, “it’s ruining it—”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro raised an eyebrow and fuck if he didn’t look sexy like that. “Make me.”

“I _would_ , but apparently my lips do nothing to stop that idiotic look on your face.”

Zoro laughed. They were so close, Sanji could feel his chest rumble with the sound. He pushed him harder against the island, but the cook wouldn’t have it and pushed back.

Zoro let out a sharp intake of breath and Sanji froze.

_Did I just …?_

Zoro pulled away from him, trying to use his arm to cover his flushed face. It wasn’t working.

“Sorry, I uh—”

“Are you hard?”

The tips of Zoro’s ears were turning pink. “It’s um—”

“Sorry—”

Zoro let out a laugh. It sounded breathless. “You don't have to apologize for something as stupid as this.”

“But—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes.

They fell into an awkward silence until—

“Do you … do you want me to help you?”

“What? No!”

“No need to sound so disgusted,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. He hoped his teasing tone covered up his dejection.

“I’m not! I mean I just …” Zoro scratched his head. “Can we just finish the dishes?”

Sanji didn’t mention it again as they washed and dried, like clockwork. They told another story together, this time about a boy named Marimo who enjoyed fighting and acted like a prissy whenever someone touched his swords, but there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Once the last dish was put away, Zoro rubbed his hands together and nodded. “So uh … night.” His voice was strained.

“Are you still hard?”

Zoro blushed. “I can deal with it,” he said. “Cold showers and all …”

“You won’t … um …” Sanji bit his bottom lip, beginning to blush as much as Zoro, if not more. “You’re not going to take care of it yourself?”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Sanji stepped closer to him.

“Sanji …” His voice was hoarse. “You’re really _not_ helping me right now.”

“Come on, Marimo.”

He had made up his mind.

The swordsman followed him, but it was clear he didn’t understand what was happening until they were in front of Zoro’s bedroom door.

“Sanji—”

“Keep the lights off,” instructed the blond, pulling him into the room.

With a light push to Zoro’s chest, the swordsman sat on the bed wordlessly.

He made sure his back was facing Zoro’s large mirror when he climbed on top of him. The swordsman’s back hit the mattress lightly.

“S-Sanji, you—”

“Why do you look so scared? I’m not going to bite. Unless you ask me to.”

Sanji didn’t have a fucking clue what he was doing.

He really wished he had thought this through a little bit more, but there didn’t seem to be an abort button to life.

_Deep breaths Sanji, you can do this._

Zoro was looking at him weirdly. Sanji’s heart got stuck in his throat.

_Screw this, you can’t do this._

Sanji sat up, sitting on his ankles. “Can we forget this happened?”

“Sure … but uh, I’m not exactly sure what I’m forgetting.” Zoro chuckled nervously. “Were you going to …?”

“It was stupid—”

“It was hot as fuck.”

Sanji blinked.

“What?”

Zoro used his elbows as leverage to straightened himself. “You just took charge all of a sudden. I liked it.” He pulled at Sanji’s tie gently, bringing the cook closer. “I liked it a lot.”

His lips stayed where they were, so close to Sanji’s, parted slightly from a gasp.

Zoro was grinning. He didn’t look at all upset that Sanji hadn’t followed through.

“Sanji,” he breathed, “kiss me.”

He did.

Sanji’s legs settled on either side of Zoro’s hips. Placing his arms on either side of Zoro’s head, he let the swordsman guide him.

It wasn’t hot, and it wasn’t heated. There was no heat, or rush. It was slow and lazy, their lips gliding over each other’s. They separated briefly to breathe before going back in again, with the same steady, comfortable rhythm.

Sanji had found his favourite kind of kiss.

Zoro’s grip on his tie was light. Sanji could feel his body sinking into the other man, his arms giving out on him as his weight started to lower onto Zoro. There was no desperation in these kisses, no hair-grabbing or pulling, and no tongue.

They still left Sanji breathless.

Sanji didn’t know how long they kept on like this, but eventually he was practically lying on the green-haired man, his eyes closed.

It was like the perfect moment, just the two of them, as though the rest of the world didn’t exist.

When they finally separated for good, Zoro’s breathing was as laboured as Sanji’s. His lips were puffy. Sanji licked his own in response. His mouth felt numb but at the same time, so sensitive. He wanted to go in for another kiss.

Zoro looked beautiful like that, spread out, ragged breathing, eyelids half-closed, lips slightly parted.

Sanji sat up and slid down the swordsman’s body.

“S-Sanji?” His voice sounded small, so hoarse.

The cook kept going.

He settled on his heels and took a deep breath. With trembling hands, he popped the first button of Zoro’s pants.

“W-what are you doing?”

Sanji said nothing, not trusting his voice to work. Each button echoed loudly in the room, deafening him but continued. He thought by the time he got to the zipper, his nerves would’ve calmed down, but they seemed to have only gotten worse.

He pulled the elastic of Zoro’s boxers away from him, worrying his bottom lip. Zoro’s hand was under his chin and he was being kissed suddenly and—

“Ow.”

It was quiet, but Sanji froze. In his shock at the sudden kiss, he had let go and the band had snapped back, hard against Zoro’s skin. He sat back, resting on Zoro’s thighs. What the fuck was he thinking?

“S—”

“Don’t apologize,” Zoro said, with a light chuckle. “I’m not mad. It’s cute.”

“Shut up …”

“You’re turning red.”

“Do you  _have_ to tease me?”

“You just look so focused, it’s hard not to. You’re too serious.”

“I want it to be good.”

Zoro chuckled softly. “It will be.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right. You’ll suck.”

“That was the plan …”

“So it’ll go accordingly,” Zoro teased.

Sanji frowned. “You’re a dick.”

“That you’ll be sucking.” Zoro tilted Sanji’s chin up to look at him. “You know you don’t have to, right?”

“I know.” Sanji pulled the elastic away again, and took Zoro in his hand. He felt overly conscious of his fingers now. Were they too cold? Too hot? Was he holding him too tight? His wrist felt weird in this position.

The swordsman let out a sound as if he were choking on air.

“Is this okay?” Sanji asked, feeling small.

“Christ, Sanji, it’s _more_ than okay,” Zoro assured him. He looked like he was in pain. “I just … I don’t want you to be doing this because you feel you have to.”

“I don’t,” Sanji assured him. “Tell me … tell me what you like, okay?”

Zoro nodded.

Sanji began to stroke him.

Zoro felt weird in his hand, something foreign. He was thick, but not scary. The darkness helped, not having to focus on anything but what was directly in front of him, but at the same time, he wanted to see. Wanted to know that this was _Zoro_ , not the cooks.

Sanji’s lip started trembling. He bit down hard, trying to hold himself back. _Forget about them, not now._

“Could you … can you …”

Sanji looked up at Zoro.

“Why the fuck are _you_ blushing?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s embarrassed?” snapped the swordsman. “Bastard, do you think you have a monopoly over the action of blushing?”

Sanji was turning way too red. He almost backed out, but the way Zoro was looking at him— like he was torn between embarrassment and pleasure — was beautiful and new and Sanji wanted to memorize it.

“It’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

“But you are.”

“It has to be illegal to sound that innocent when giving someone a handjob.”

Sanji chuckled nervously. “D-do you want me to stop?”

Zoro shook his head. “Just … could you … squeeze a bit?”

“Like this?”

Zoro choked on his next inhale. “Yeah, shit, just like that.”

Sanji watched each of Zoro’s expressions as he continued. His hands felt sensitive, overly-aware of the feel of Zoro in his hands. After a few minutes like this, he bent down and stuck his tongue out experimentally, letting it flick over the tip.

_It’s salty._

Sanji looked up at Zoro, and frowned. “Is it always like that?”

Zoro was shielding his face with his arm.

“Hey,” said the cook, “look at me.”

“It’s more embarrassing that way.”

“Tough shit, I’m going to suck your cock, the least you can do is look at me while I do it.”

“For a ladies’ man, you’re not romantic at all.”

Sanji was pretty sure it was supposed to turn him off, that they were having such a conversation at at time like this, but he felt the atmosphere lighten, his nerves calming down considerably.

“You’re going to watch me,” Sanji said, a sudden burst of confidence swelling inside of him.

Zoro lowered his arm. His face was bright red. The blush went from his cheeks to his ears, and down his neck, dipping into his shirt. It was a beautiful red valley.

The cook licked along the side of Zoro’s member hesitantly and the man twitched.

“I haven’t … it’s been a while since I …”

Sanji ignored his half-coherent words. He licked a long stripe up and down the swordsman’s length. He didn’t find it disgusting, which had been one of his greatest fears— that as far as he had come, he would still find sex to be repulsive— rather, he loved watching the way Zoro reacted to him, knowing that _he_ was the one who was making the swordsman come undone.

He let his tongue swirl around the head, keeping eye contact with Zoro the whole time. It felt intimate, to do it like this. He felt vulnerable, despite being the least exposed of the two.

Hesitantly, he took the head into his mouth.

He was careful, making sure his teeth weren’t anywhere near Zoro. Slowly, he began to suck, watching Zoro for his reaction.

Zoro’s fingers bunched up the sheets and his hips thrust forward.

Sanji froze as more of Zoro slid into his mouth. He was sure his teeth scraped against him by accident from the sudden intrusion. Zoro’s hips fell back down and Sanji relaxed.

He wondered how many people had seen Zoro like this, so open, so unguarded, so … _needy_.

“Shit, Sanji … I …” Zoro gulped, and his hands separated from the sheets. He ran his fingers through Sanji’s hair lightly and Sanji couldn’t keep in the hum of satisfaction that escaped him. The vibrations did something to Zoro, who abruptly grabbed a fistful of his hair at the new sensation. He didn’t pull, and after an instant, he let go and was back to gently combing through Sanji’s locks.

Zoro was letting out sinful sounds, gasps and moans and grunts, but they were quiet, soft, like he was trying to control himself. Occasionally his hips would buck up but he’d immediately force them down.

The swordsman’s body was shivering against him, he could feel Zoro’s thighs trembling underneath his hand.

He tried to take more, but his eyes were watering, and his throat felt tight—

“Fuck, don’t choke yourself!”

Sanji pulled off of him, coughing.

“Jesus, you don’t have to— _holy shit_.”

Sanji knew his limit now, so he took what he could of Zoro into his mouth, and tightened his grip on the swordsman. He kept one hand on Zoro’s thigh, and the other stroked what he couldn’t take.

“Fuck, Sanji …”

_Say my name again. Just like that._

“I … _shit_ , Sanji, I’m gonna—”

The moment he felt the load begin to enter his mouth, Sanji pulled off. It landed mostly on his face.

“I am so sorry,” Zoro said, leaning forward. “I’ll get you something to clean it up—”

“It’s fine,” Sanji said. He licked his lips experimentally. Still salty. He wiped the rest away with his sleeve. It was an old shirt, he didn’t mind it that much. “Just … wasn’t expecting it.”

Zoro was panting, his chest rising and falling, obviously winded from his orgasm. He was looking at Sanji in a way that he couldn’t place, but he liked it. “Christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Did you … did you not like it?”

Zoro let out a breathless laugh “I just fucking came and you think I _didn’t like it_?” He shook his head. Glancing down at Sanji he raised an eyebrow. “Want some help?”

“I’m okay—”

“You’re hard.”

Sanji licked his lips. “So?”

“So it’d be rude of me to leave you like that,” Zoro said. He zipped up his pants and pulled Sanji closer, pressing him up against his chest.

Sanji wasn’t sure if he could feel pleasure from something like this, he didn’t want to make Zoro do something, and come up dry. It felt _wrong._ He didn’t know what to do, what he liked, if he even liked anything at all. If he’d ever be comfortable with Zoro giving _him_ pleasure. He had gotten used to not getting any. He had just assumed … “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” Zoro echoed. “You make it sound like getting you off is a chore.” With way more skill than Sanji could hope to have, he popped Sanji’s pants’ buttons and the zipper came undone in mere seconds. “Have you ever touched yourself before, Sanji?”

Sanji shut his eyes tightly. Zoro’s breath in his ear sent pleasant shivers down his spine. “I … there was never any privacy so …” he trailed off.

Zoro chuckled softly. “Guess we’ll have to change that.”

His hand slipped beneath Sanji’s boxers.

It was warm, and Sanji didn’t know if it was because Zoro’s hand was heated, or if his own skin was trying to burn itself. His head fell back instinctively and he clutched Zoro’s bicep.

“Zoro …” His name came out like a plea.

Zoro began to stroke him.

Sanji didn’t know what to do with himself. He was embarrassed, felt himself melting against the swordsman. He was glad it was dark; he couldn’t see himself in that dreadful mirror, but more importantly, Zoro couldn’t see him clearly.

His hips bucked forward, and then—

“Shit, what are you doing to me?” Sanji gasped, feeling Zoro’s lips on his neck. He was sucking on the skin and Sanji could feel the cold of his earrings against his skin. He was getting dizzy. He rocked into Zoro’s hand and exposed more of his neck for better access.

He was sure he looked disgusting right now, so openly vulnerable, so wanton. But he couldn’t find it within himself to give a damn when Zoro pulled at him like that.

“I … shit, I’m going to … Zoro, I—”

“Shh,” Zoro whispered gently against his neck. “It’s alright. Cum for me.”

Sanji came undone, Zoro continuing to pepper kisses along his throat all the while.

When it was over, Sanji felt shaky. He was trembling, and he knew it. He had never felt anything like it before. Pleasure like this had never existed for him before.

“I … I feel dirty.”

“That’s because you _are_ dirty,” chuckled Zoro. “I probably should’ve gotten you out of your clothes before I did it but … how the fuck do you look so sexy when fully dressed?”

“Effort?”

Zoro chuckled. “You cheeky piece of shit.” He untangled himself from Sanji and stood up. “I’ll get you a towel, so you can clean up.”

The swordsman got off the bed and lumbered to the bathroom. To Sanji’s joy, he didn’t turn the light on.

The blond bit his lip. “Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“No, I mean, for …”

_Taking me in? Helping me learn to stand on my own? For giving me the courage to trust again? For deciding I’m worth it? For not giving up on me? Thank you for being here for me, for taking your time, for letting me move at my own pace. Thank you for taking away the fear of sex, for making it enjoyable for me, for caring about my pleasure, for wanting to give me pleasure._

“Just … thanks.”

Zoro bit his lip and stopped in the doorway. “You know, this doesn’t change anything, right?”

“What?”

“I’m not … I’m not going to start pressuring you for sex now that you’ve …”

“Sucked your cock?”

Zoro blushed. “Yeah … I’m not going to expect this to be something we do a lot, or even ever again.”

Somehow, Zoro had predicted his fears and squished them before they had even developed in Sanji.

“I know.”

“I’m not going to take advantage of you,” Zoro continued. “Because I care about you, you know that, right? I told you I’m not in this for your body, and I’m not. This changes nothing. We’ll keep going the way we have been, and I won’t ask more of you. I certainly don’t think any less of you. You know that, right? I respect you, I really do.”

Zoro was too fucking embarrassing for him. Sanji covered his face with his arm, struggling to keep the heat off his face.

“Get the fucking towel, Marimo.”

Zoro grinned. “Sure thing, Love Cook.”


	27. Holly Jolly Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> References to past abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a Christmas chapter in the middle of May. (try and write this when it's August, I DARE YOU. Because I did. When I first wrote it).

Shopping for presents near Christmas time was like trying to get a swimsuit in summer. The one time you needed it and you finally acknowledged that you needed it, was when there was nothing around to be found.

Zoro had not thought this through.

He had already gotten Luffy a special steak machine that made it easier to cook, he had gotten Nami a fancy compass to her great joy and he got Usopp a new pair of goggles, but he had no doubt that Kaya had probably gotten him a better pair. Now he just had to figure out something for Sanji.

He had no fucking clue where to start.

_Fuck._

This was the reason why he was now standing in a fancy culinary store with Luffy, looking for a new set of knives for Sanji.

Each time he watched Sanji hold a knife, two thoughts went through his head. He wondered what it would be like if instead of a knife, Sanji held a sword and how good he’d be at wielding it, while another, bigger part of his mind, wondered if Sanji would miss the cut and cause himself more pain. Worse, if he’d _enjoy_ the pain.

Getting a set of knives for Sanji was nerve-racking to say the least.

“What about one of these?” asked Luffy, pointing towards an item on display.

“Luffy, that’s a meat grinder. We’re getting Sanji kitchen knives.”

“We are?”

He knew asking Luffy to come would be a problem and yet he had done it anyway.

Don’t judge him, he was getting desperate, okay?

There were too many aisles in the stupid department store, and Zoro would rather die than ask an employee for help. Zoro could just imagine getting into a heated argument with the employee and then he’d probably end up in mall-jail, and he didn’t want to worry Sanji about stuff like that. He owed him at least that much, especially given what the cook had done for him the other day.

Zoro closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. Just thinking about it sent shivers down his spine and he was brought right back into the moment.

God, he had been so _awkward_ when it was over.

It was weird to do stuff like that with someone who wasn’t _Her._ He always found himself comparing people to Her, but for the first time, she had been the farthest thing on his mind.

It was a learning experience with Sanji, in so many ways. For one, he had never imagined he’d reach a point in his life where he’d get so turned on by a man, and for another, he honestly had thought such feelings weren’t possible again.

It didn’t feel the exact same. There was no heat, no desperation or neediness in his relationship with Sanji. Zoro used to think that in order to have passion, you needed something all-consuming that made it difficult to breathe. He thought the perfect love was one where each moment was like you were on fire and you had to catch your breath at every instant, and everything felt like a rush.

Being with Sanji didn’t feel like that. Not at all.

And yet, though it was so different, it was also the same. His voice still got caught in his throat, he still stumbled over his thoughts, he still wasn’t able to act like a normal human being.

Zoro was pretty sure Sanji thought he was a complete dork.

He’d find the blond some great kitchen knives and then that might make up a little for his screw up of being so … inexperienced? Was that the right word?He had never cum that fast, but then again, he hadn’t gotten laid in nearly half a year.

“Zoro? You look like you’re beating yourself up over something,” Luffy said. “I asked one of the employees, they say the knife section is aisle five.”

“There are _five_ aisles in this place?!”

“I think there’s thirteen total.” He shrugged. “Anyway, you going to come? Christmas is like, three days away, remember? You need to get him something good, especially to repay him for that sword he got you. Shushu?”

“Shu _sui._ ”

“Whatever.”

Aisle five was filled with knives, reminding Zoro of an armoury. He remembered Sanji scolding him for being unable to tell the difference between different types of knives, but honestly, Zoro couldn’t care less about them. However, they were an essential part of Sanji’s culinary arsenal.

“What about this one?”

Zoro was regretting going knife shopping with _Luffy_ of all people, immensely. All the same, he took a look at the knife and frowned. “I think he already has one of those.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m usually talking to him when he’s cooking, his back’s always to me, you think I have x-ray vision or something?” Zoro rolled his eyes. “Look, we just need something that looks fancy. I think.” He picked up a knife that looked pretty fashionable with a nice oak handle (if Nami were here, she’d claim he had no clue what fashion even was, never mind fashionable). “Like this.”

“Um Zoro?”

“What? Sanji’s a great cook, he needs the best equipment, right?”

“But the price …”

“I think I can handle it Luffy.” Zoro checked the item display price. “Fuck that, he can deal with crappy knives!” _Is it even legal to price them like that?_ “His stuff tastes good the way it is now, why ruin a good thing?”

“I thought you could handle it,” Luffy teased.

“Yeah well, I didn’t know there could be so many zeroes.” Putting it away, Zoro turned to another array of knives.

Despite the fact that he was in a large department store, he felt like someone was going tograb one of the knives on display and stab him. _Buying things for the cook shouldn’t be this dangerous,_ he thought to himself, tilting his head and inspecting the blade. _I think it might be sharper than Sandai—_

“Hey, Zoro!”

Zoro’s head snapped around to see Luffy dragging an employee towards them. He was wearing the customary uniform— a shirt promoting the store and an apron. He looked stupid in Zoro’s opinion. He was also freakishly tall with dark hair and blue eyes. Zoro felt as though that description was familiar to him somehow.

“No! No way! We are _not_ asking for help!”

“Hi,” said the man with the stupid apron. “I hear you’re looking to buy a knife set for a friend of yours?”

He was even taller up close. “What’s it to you?”

“Don’t be childish, Zoro,” said Luffy. “If we don’t get help, we won’t end up getting Sanji anything and I think you owe him a decent present for Christmas.”

“Who are _you_ to tell _me_ not to be childish?”

“Well, can I recommend—”

“No, you can’t!” Zoro snapped, turning to the employee sharply, brandishing the knife he had been looking at.

“Sir, if you’d just put the knife down—”

“I will not!”

_Deep breaths, Zoro._

“Sorry.” The word was forced out of his lips like it was poison. Apologies sucked, and he never bothered with them, his friends all knew he was just like this naturally. Sanji was different though— _Fuck, I’m was whipped, aren’t I?_ “I think we can handle ourselves just fine. Excuse us for bothering you.”

“It’s really no bother,” said the giant.

“How tall are you?” asked Zoro before he could stop himself.

“186 centimetres,” he replied without missing a beat.

_At least have the decency to look a little fazed._

His cool attitude was getting on Zoro’s nerves and the smile slowly spreading on his face was creepy.

“What’s with that look?”

“You remind me of someone,” said the happy potential basketball player. “He was very … _eccentric_ , I suppose you could say.” He shook his head. “Do you know what kind of knives your friend owns?”

“I don’t know, kitchen knives. Don’t ask me to understand this culinary shit.” Zoro crossed his arms and _maybe_ he _possibly_ looked like he was pouting, but he wasn’t, he was just annoyed because h didn’t need help. “Look, you can scurry off and check inventory or whatever the hell culinary employees do. We don’t need help.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Zoro said through gritted teeth. He did not have the time or patience for this. Not at all.

The man nodded. “Okay.”

The man turned on his heel to leave, but it didn’t sit well with him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he yelled at the man’s retreating back.“You’re just going to leave us alone?”

_The fuck are you doing?_

He had been trying to get _rid of the man_ and he had just done it for him, and now he was calling him _back_?

Theman stared at him confused. It didn’t seem like his attempt to leave had been a ploy to get Zoro to ask for help, he was genuinely confused. He took a few steps closer to the two idiots in the kitchen store, pointing to himself. “Me?” he asked.

“Yeah, you,” Zoro shouted at him from the other end of the aisle. “What kind of shitty employee just lets a customer go?”

The man walked up to them, but it wasn't the purposeful stride that many of Zoro’s enemies whom he had antagonized had. No, he seemed calm and level-headed. It was annoying.

“I was under the impression you didn’t want my help,” said the employee with genuine confusion, his brow furrowing as he made his way to them. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” Zoro said, feeling a bit ruffled. “But still …”

“Do you want company?”

Zoro’s response was a quick and ready “no”, but Luffy beat him to it and instead of saying “no”, like he should have, like a good straw hat idiot, he said “Sure!” If _that_ wasn't enough, he said it with that big stupid grin on his face. “The more the merrier, right?”

The man gave him a smile. “Of course.”

Fuck. Well fine, it wasn’t like Zoro was going to spend that much time in the store anyway. Find a suitable present and get out, that was simple, wasn't it?

* * *

 

Of course it wasn’t.

Because Luffy was there and Luffy insisted on asking the man questions, including if he was a full-time employee. He was a part-timer, who had several other jobs, including one at a flower boutique.

“You wouldn’t have happened to have seen a blond come into the store at any time?” Zoro asked. “Tall, black blazer, golden buttons on it. Wears his hair so that it covers one of his eyes and has a fucked-up eyebrow?”

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about.” He smiled. “Are you the person he was getting those flowers for?”

“Wow, Zoro, Sanji got you flowers?” asked Luffy with a laugh. “What were they?”

“Peonies and Stars of Bethlehem.”

“Yes, they represent healing—”

“And hope,” Zoro finished. His face was pissing him off. “I know. He told me.”

The man’s smile grew. “Do you like them?”

Zoro turned his head away. “They were fine,” he said in a stiff voice. “Nothing to be over-excited about.”

The man let out a light chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” said the man. “You’re interesting.”

“Glad to know I entertain you.”

“I didn’t say that,” the tall man said with a slight frown.

“Interesting, entertaining, they mean the same thing in my book.” _And Sanji’s too_. “Come on Luffy, let’s get going.”

He grabbed Luffy’s arm, who in turn, grabbed the stranger’s arm.

Zoro made a sharp turn, looking for the exit when—

_CRASH!_

The strange three-linked chain of grown men had knocked over the meat grinder display.

When Zoro had imagined this shopping trip, he had not anticipated being buried under heavy grills.

Despite the fact that the giant, who Zoro was beginning to see as a victim of Luffy’s stupidity, had just been given a potential concussion and grounds for a lawsuit, he didn’t seem annoyed. He was _laughing_.

Zoro pulled Luffy out of the wreckage and growled. “Come on, let’s get out of here before we cause anymore damage.”

“But the knives—”

“Sanji has enough knives,” Zoro told him, dragging him through the aisles.

How big was this fucking store? Was it just a giant maze? Everywhere he turned, it seemed there was another aisle. When he saw the cutting boards for the fifth time, Zoro decided he was lost. He didn’t like deciding he was lost.

“The door’s over there,” Luffy said, pointing towards the exit.

Zoro pulled him towards it, tasting his freedom when a large man blocked his way.

“Are you the one who knocked over the meat grinder display?”

“That was this guy,” Zoro said, gesturing towards Luffy. “Why? How is it any of your business?”

“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Please exit the store silently.”

“We were heading there anyway,” Zoro grumbled, refusing to listen to Luffy’s complaints about how he was totally sure he could afford the meat grinder if he combined his money with Zoro’s.

There was a beat of silence.

“Did I just get kicked out of the store?”

“I don’t know. Hey, Zoro, do you think if I asked Nami, she’d get me that meat grinder?”

* * *

 

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Why does that—?”

“Answer the question.”

Zoro sighed. “December twenty-fourth.”

“What was that?”

“I’m not fucking repeating it! If you aren’t going to be any help—”

“Did you seriously think _Luffy_ could help you get Sanji a Christmas gift?” Nami demanded. He could sense her eye roll over the line. “You should’ve asked me in the first place, that way you wouldn’t have wasted all this time.”

“You know, there was a _reason_ why I didn’t ask you—”

“Don’t you know anything about your boyfriend? What, you don’t even know what Sanji likes? Don’t you sigh at me, Roronoa, you'd better clean up your act!”

“And _this_ is my reason. A fucking good one too,” he muttered to himself. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’re dating him, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but …”

“But nothing!” Nami sighed. “I swear, you can’t think of _anything_ Sanji would like? What does he like to do? What are his hobbies?”

“ _Besides_ watching crappy anime?” Zoro shrugged, then remembered Nami couldn’t see him. “I don’t know, I can't think of anything.”

“THINK HARDER!”

“Jesus woman, don’t blow my ear off!” Zoro pulled the phone away from his poor, abused auditory canal. “Never mind, I’ll just go—”

“Roronoa Zoro, if you hang up I swear I’m going to murder you in your sleep!”

Zoro scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t test me.”

Zoro’s blood ran cold. If there was anyone you shouldn’t underestimate, it was Nami.

“Fine, fine. But I mean what do you want me to do? I’ve got like …” Zoro checked his watch. “Eight hours before it’s Christmas, that’s not enough time.”

“Boys and tardiness,” Nami muttered. “Well, you have a few more hours than Sanji had. Zoro, I’m going to ask you to close your eyes now.”

Zoro frowned. “Is this like, some sort of thing that happens in those weird anime he’s always watching? Like if I close my eyes and channel my chakra or whatever, I’ll sprout a tail?”

“Zoro. Close. Your. Eyes.”

Zoro closed his eyes.

“Are they closed?”

“Yes they’re fucking closed, what do you want from me?”

“Okay good, keep them close. Now I want you to think and talk to me. Tell me exactly what you’re thinking. No censoring, no bullshit, you’re not omitting anything.”

“How is this supposed to help me?” Zoro asked. “Is this some kind of fengshui shit?”

“That’s moving furniture, Zoro,” Nami deadpanned. “Just do it.”

“Okay okay, calm down!” He sighed. “What am I supposed to think about though?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Sanji!” The swordsman swore he could hear her eye roll over the phone.

“Sanji,” Zoro repeated softly. “Okay, um …”

“I’m waiting,” Nami said.

“And they call _me_ impatient? I don’t know what I think of the cook—”

“How is that possible? You’re dating him!”

“Blond,” Zoro forced out. He was going to have a stern talk with Luffy about his girlfriend. “Fucked up eyebrows, but somewhat _not_ fucked up at the same time … Man that sounds fucked up. Soft lips, talented tongue.” Zoro’s mind slipped back to that night and he couldn’t hold in a moan. “Fuck, _really_ talented tongue. And those lips and that gag reflex—”

“Sanji blew you?!”

Zoro’s eyes opened. “You said to think of Sanji. I’m following orders.”

“I don’t need to hear about it!”

“But you said not to censor or omit anything—”

“I know what I said!”

“Nami … does the thought of Sanji going down on me turn you on?”

Silence. Then—

“Roronoa Zoro, I swear I’m going to dismember you and no one will find the body.”

“Does Luffy know you're this violent?”

“Zoro!”

“Alright, already woman!” It was better if he didn’t think of that night anyway, he was getting hard remembering Sanji’s flushed expression when Zoro brought him to orgasm. “He tastes like nicotine. You know how I hate cigarettes, but I mean, when it’s on him, it just _suits him_ , you know? It’s a really strong taste too. He’s always got that cigarette in between his lips. He’s got a crappy lighter though, don’t know how old that thing is— Nami, you’re a fucking genius!”

“What was that?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

* * *

 

“That one,” Zoro said, pointing at a black lighter.

“You sure?” asked the man behind the counter. “It’s kind of bland.”

“It’s his favourite colour,” Zoro said.

“Sonny, you know black—”

“Isn’t a colour, I know. Try telling him that though.” The black-is-not-a-colour argument had become more of an endearing thing over the past few months, and he found himself grinning stupidly. “Do you know where I can get things engraved?”

The man behind the counter nodded. “We do them here. What do you want on it?”

Zoro told him.

The man frowned. “We charge per letter you know. You sure you don’t want something shorter?”

“No, it has to be that,” Zoro told him with a firm nod. 

Sanji was going to be _so_ happy.

* * *

 

When Zoro came back to the apartment, he was faced with a problem he had never encountered before.

Whereas he could shove the presents into the closet whenever they came over until it was time for them to receive them, Sanji lived with him.

_Where the fuck do you put presents?_

He could just put it in his pocket, but then again, he’d probably forget about it and then Sanji would find it while doing a load of laundry.

Zoro threw the lighter into the air, watching it spin before he caught it skillfully. It was of course, at that moment, that the door to the apartment opened and in walked Sanji.

“Hey— what are you playing with?”

“Playing with what?”

Sanji frowned, taking off his jacket. “That thing you were tossing in the air?”

_To hide a present, to hide a present … Fuck, where the hell do I hide the present?_

“Zoro?”

“Eh?” asked Zoro distractedly.

“Oi, are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, totally, the thing I was playing with.” Zoro threw it to the ground and kicked it underneath the couch. “Don’t know, must be imagining things. You know that’ll happen when you only see through one eye.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“ _What_? Totally not. _You’re_ acting weird.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sanji rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Nami says we should start the new year off with a bang and really wants us to fight at Partys when it comes. She thinks it’ll be the fight of the century.” He shook his head. “I swear I saw yen signs in her eyes.”

“You watch too much anime,” Zoro told him, shaking his head. He collapsed on the couch next to him and smirked. “So, do you think you’re up for it? To fight I mean?”

Sanji lit up a cigarette and leaned back. “Well, it’s been a while since you’ve recovered. I guess I wouldn't mind doing it, maybe sometime in early January? I’m definitely not doing it on New Years. I don’t want to start the year off with bruises and a mangled face.”

Zoro let out a laugh. “I guess that wouldn’t be the best thing, would it?” He shook his head. “So what are we doing for Christmas?”

“Well, I figured we’d spend the day with Luffy and the gang of lunatics,” Sanji said “and then … I dunno, the night’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Zoro nodded when an idea popped into his head. “Let’s stay up till midnight.”

“Aren’t we doing that on New Year’s Eve?”

“No, let’s do it tonight,” Zoro said. “I want to give you my present _on_ Christmas, not nine hours after it’s started.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Sanji with a laugh. “Nine hours? You know I’d be up before that.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t be,” Zoro reminded him. He bit his lip, almost nervous at his proposition. “So, do you want to?”

“Stay up till midnight, huh?” As the smoke circled around the blond, Zoro was reminded of a line in a book he had read for school saying that the small puffs of smoke people exhaled from pipes looked pretty and swirled around like small clouds. “I’m up for it, sure.” He grinned. “But you better not fall asleep on me Marimo.”

* * *

**Time: 9:30 PM JST**

**Time Until Christmas: 2 hours and 30 minutes**

* * *

 

Zoro was bored.

Why did he say they should stay up till midnight again? What was he supposed to do during this time anyway? He lay vertically on the couch, upside down.

Anime was stupid in his opinion, it was even _more_ stupid upside down. What was the show this time?

_Okay, so there’s a dog. No, wait, he’s human. No, he’s not. Wait, he’s neither? What kind of fucked up shit is this? Don’t people prefer_ **_neko_ ** _stuff? Okay wait, focus. So there’s a girl. Why is her skirt so short? Is she a prostitute? She’s not pretty enough to be one. Man, her voice is annoying. That’s a … that’s a_ **_kitsune_ ** _? They call_ **_that_ ** _a_ **_kitsune_ ** _? Fuck, that’s messed up. Did that monk just grope her? Why does that girl have a giant boomerang?_

“Sanji?” he called to the man in the kitchen.

“Hmm?” replied the blond as he readied their Christmas meal. He really did spoil him.

“Sanji, why’s that guy got a hole in his hand?” Okay, insulting his anime sounded like the right place to start when it came to repayment.

There was a sigh. “That’s Miroku, he’s cursed.”

“Well I figured your life can’t be that great if you’ve got a giant hole in your hand that looks like it’s going to suck in the world. And why’s that weird guy in the _hakama_ breaking that girl’s alarm clock? Is that Feudal Japan or is it normal Tokyo?” He shook his head. The blood was starting to rush to his head, just a little. “This art kind of reminds me of that other show you watch, the one with the guy who’s confused about his gender—”

“He’s not confused, he’s also cursed.”

“Why are there so many cursed people in this stuff you watch?”

Sanji’s footsteps approached him and Zoro knew he had turned off the stove and was about to defend all of his favourite anime characters. Oh fun. He liked seeing Sanji angry though, it was pretty hot so he continued as he heard his footsteps approach. “And then there was that El guy and Ned, right? They’re also cursed, cause El doesn't have a body and Ned’s missing a few limbs. Oh! And then there’s that Sanosuke guy, right? He’s got weird marks all over him and Ichigo has the weird ass tattoo on his stomach, right? Oh! What about that rubber man? What was his name? Fluffy? Ruffy?”

Sanji shook his head. “Sit up, idiot. You’re going to pass out.”

Now that Sanji mentioned it, he was starting to feel a bit light headed. Zoro sat up properly again.

“Okay, first of all, the cursed guy who turns into a girl is Ranma. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up falling into the Chinese Cursed Spring of the Drowned Girl.”

“So wait, does that mean he has to worry about that blood stuff like … coming out?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point! Anyway, that’s Ranma. The one who made _Ranma 1/2_ and _InuYasha_ were the same person, so of course the art is similar. It’s _Al_ and _Ed_ , Sanosuke is from somewhere else, it’s Sasuke, and Ichigo is also from somewhere else, it’s Naruto. And as for the rubber man—”

“Yeah yeah,” Zoro said, cutting him off. “You like your anime. Does that mean you’re still like, what, twelve or something?”

“Hey, at least I don’t watch crap like _Pokémon_ filled with pre-pubescent boys who refuse to age while everyone else around them grows older.”

“Hey, that’s Ash, right? I liked him!”

Sanji sighed. “Dinner’s almost ready, get yourself cleaned up and I’ll feed you.”

Zoro stared down at his current attire. He was wearing a pair of jeans with a few tears in them and a black shirt. He had kicked off his shoes already and was wearing the customary slippers. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Suit up!”

“Don’t own one.” Zoro headed for the kitchen but Sanji beat him to it and blocked his path. “Sanji, move.”

“No.”

“You’re being childish.”

“Said by the one supporting Ash Ketchum.”

“Hey, he’s got a cool hat!”

Sanji shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, so child—Zoro, what are you doing?!”

Zoro pulled Sanji closer by his blazer before pushing him up against the doorframe of the kitchen. The cigarette fell from Sanji’s lips, hitting the floor with a hiss, but Zoro had better things to focus on.

Zoro swore he could get addicted to Sanji’s kisses, if he wasn’t already. The taste of nicotine, spices and _Sanji_ on his tongue, bitter with a tad of sweetness was intoxicating. Not too sweet, not too sour. Sanji still had no idea how to kiss, he was under no illusion that Sanji was good at this, but it was the tentative way that he responded to his touches that set Zoro’s body on fire. It was the way he seemed to mould under his touch, cave in as much as Zoro did when he kissed him. He was so responsive and he tried his best, it was the raw _want_ that he could feel Sanji conveying to him through his kisses that really made Zoro’s head spin.

No kiss had ever been like the ones Sanji gave him, not even ones from _Her_.

Before he could get himself too caught up in the kiss, Zoro pulled away, trying his hardest to ignore the smallest trace of a whimper coming from Sanji (which he knew the cook would deny profusely if ever pressed about it), and slipped past him into the kitchen.

“That was dirty,” Sanji accused.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Zoro said with a smirk.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, now did I?”

Zoro gave him a smile. “Sit down and eat, idiot.”

* * *

 

**Time: 10:26 PM JST**

**Time Until Christmas: 1 hour and 34 minutes**

* * *

 

They had eaten their dinner in silence and were cleaning up, their usual routine of Zoro drying and Sanji cleaning, when Sanji spoke.

“You know … I’ve never had a Christmas like this.”

Zoro knew the way Sanji liked to talk about things by now. If he stayed quiet, Sanji would share what he felt comfortable with.

“The … the orphanage didn’t really care that much about stuff like that. I mean, I think we used to have this really horrible looking Christmas tree with a star on top but by the time the day was over, some kid would steal it.” He let out a hollow laugh. “And you know how the cooks are, they aren't the type to be all holly and jolly during Christmas.

“Zeff would get me something for the holiday though, but he’d never really _give_ it to me, you know? He’s just kind of leave it in the house and when I woke up, I’d see it. One year, he actually gave it to me when I came back from getting the groceries and he just kind of … shoved it at me before telling me to get back to work.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just … nice, you know? To do something like this. It feels … normal.”

“Hey, it isn’t even Christmas yet,” Zoro told him softly. “You’re never going to have to deal with those shitty excuses for a holiday anymore. This’ll be the best fucking Christmas ever.”

“There’s not much to beat,” Sanji said. “It’s already better than I thought…”

He got really quiet then.

Zoro didn’t press.

After Zoro had dried about four more plates and their glasses, he had nothing left to dry.

Then he heard it.

Sanji was crying.

It was soft, almost impossible to hear, but undeniable. The cook’s shoulders were shaking ever so slightly, and it made rage burn up in his stomach that he hadn’t heard him sooner.

“Sanji?”

“Hmm?” responded the blond. It sounded strained.

“Have you ever had eggnog?”

Sanji looked at him and Zoro’s heart broke. There were tear tracks on his face, but there were no new ones. How long had he been crying, while Zoro was _right there_ , next to him, none the wiser?

“Eggnog?” repeated Sanji, his voice cracking slightly.

How long had it taken for Sanji to learn to cry silently? It must’ve taken years. That Sanji had to learn how to cry so quietly was heartbreaking, but that he felt he had to hide it from Zoro, of all people, hurt the most.

“Yeah, eggnog. It’s a drink.” He kept his voice quiet and gentle. He didn’t want Sanji to suffer, if it was from his past, injuries or anything at all. Zoro wasn’t an idiot, he knew he couldn’t erase the past. He couldn’t undo all the horrors Sanji had braved, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to distract him. He could give him at least five new memories that were beautiful and wonderful for each of the bad until they were almost forgotten. He could do that much for Sanji. “You want to make it?”

Sanji didn’t sniffle, nor did he wipe his face. It was as though he wanted to pretend he hadn’t even been crying in the first place. Zoro went along with it.

“Okay.” There was no tremor in his voice.

Zoro flashed him a smile.

“Okay,” he said just as softly.

* * *

 

**Time: 10:40 PM JST**

**Time Until Christmas: 1 hour and 20 minutes**

* * *

 

“It’s not that complicated,” Zoro told him. “My old man taught me to make it when I was like, eight or something. I don’t need a stove or anything, it should be simple.”

Sanji let out a light laugh. “Suddenly you’re teaching me?”

“Well, the teacher becomes the student, doesn’t he? It was bound to happen.”

Zoro took out a carton of eggs. “Okay, we’re going to make six servings, so we need four eggs. You can beat them, if you want.”

“I may as well crack them too,” said the blond with a wink. “Knowing your egg cracking skills.”

“I only had one hand at the time!” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. He cracked two eggs into the bowl skillfully before throwing the eggshells into the sink. “You can crack the last two.”

Sanji gave him a far too sarcastic slow clap for his efforts.

“I’m not completely incompetent,” he said, rolling his eyes. Pulling out the milk, he asked Sanji to get the vanilla extract and sugar, along with ground nutmeg. Zoro himself got the measuring spoons and measuring cup. “Okay, we need six tablespoons of sugar, four and two third cups of the low-fat milk andtwo teaspoons of the vanilla extract. Simple enough?”

“Another fraction?” Sanji teased. “You sure you can handle it?”

“Shut up.” His laughter gave away his true meaning.

It was amazing to watch Sanji cook as always. As simple as the recipe was— just pour everything into the bowl, mix it and then cool it— he was still completely immersed in it. Whatever memories that had haunted him before seemed to be long-forgotten, at least for now. Zoro was beyond glad that he could keep Sanji’s demons at bay.

Once it was done, they put it in the fridge to cool it and took a seat at the table.

“So you’ve really never had eggnog?”

“No,” Sanji said. “I’ve made fancy eggnog beer or something like that, since the recipe’s a bit familiar to me, but I’ve never had it myself.” He shrugged. “But you don’t like sugar—”

“I don’t like overly-sweet things,” Zoro corrected him. “There’s a difference. Besides, who _doesn’t_ like eggnog?”

Sanji raised his hand.

“That’s cause you’ve never tried it, idiot.”

Sanji shrugged and took a seat at the kitchen table. “So, do you have any New Year resolutions?”

“Are we playing Twenty Questions again?”

“Got anything better to do while we wait for the eggnog to cool?”

Zoro had no answer for that.

“So, your resolutions?”

Zoro gave him a blank look.

“You know like, I will not do this, I will do this, stuff like that.”

“You read _Bridget Jones’ Diary_?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re into chick-books?”

“I saw the movie,” Sanji corrected.

“That doesn’t mean anything, that just makes it worse. You watched a chick-flick.” He shook his head. “I’m dating a gay guy!”

Sanji frowned. “I don’t think I’m gay, exactly, since I’ve been fawning over girls since just about forever … maybe I’m just bisexual.” He shrugged. “Besides, you can’t exactly date a straight guy, can you? And New Year resolutions are not something Bridget has a capitol on.”

Zoro shrugged in turn. “I guess, I mean, no one doesn’t have any, right?”

“That sounds like a double negative.”

“Only because I said the word ‘no’ and the word ‘doesn’t’. That doesn’t mean it was a double negative. And besides, _I’m_ the grammar Nazi, not you.” Zoro rolled his eyes. “What are _your_ resolutions?”

Sanji bit his bottom lip. “Um, mine never seem to change. You know how it is, you come up with a resolution that you swear you’re going to follow through on and then you just break the second it’s 12:01.” He shrugged. “They’re nothing big.”

“Come on, tell me. A lot’s happened this year, surely your resolutions have changed at least a little.”

Sanji drummed his fingers against the table in thought. “Well, the first one is always the same. I’m going to manage to sound like a normal sensible human being in front of women.” He chuckled. “We’re really busy on New Year’s Eve, so the second I make that resolution, I end up in the dining hall and it goes out the window. Um, I also say I’ll learn how to makeZeff’s top secret recipe for pie, but that never happens. He keeps that recipe looked up inside his head and never shares it with anyone. I tell myself I’m going to read the large book that Zeff bought me for my twelfth birthday, but I just look at the cover and get bored. It’s some story in Latin. The back says something about some idiot who goes off on a journey to discover himself … it’s pretty dumb. I tell myself I’m going to adapt a normal sleep schedule, but then I end up cleaning the kitchen and falling asleep on the floor … I tell myself I’ll learn how to thank Zeff properly for everything he's done, but when I finally think I’ve figured something out, he goes and does something else that makes my gesture seem stupid, so I’m back to the drawing board.” He shrugged. Zoro wondered if Sanji knew the way his eyes lit up when he was talking about Zeff. He clearly admired him. “I don’t know, they’re all dumb ones.”

“Come on, there has to be _some_ that have changed. You aren’t at the Baratie anymore, which means that you don’t have to worry about that. You’ll get normal hours and you’ve spoken to Nami pretty sensibly, so you’re on the right path.”

Sanji bit his bottom lip. “Well, there is one more. It’s not really a New Year’s resolution, it’s more of just a resolution in general but …” He turned his head. “I … I tell myself I’ll stop … stop the scars …”

_Does he mean—?_

“I think that I’ll hold off on the pain … that I’ll try to stop completely with the knives in … _that way_ …” He looked more ashamed than embarrassed. “I tell myself I won’t be that weak, that I don’t need it anymore … I remind myself I’m damaged enough so … there’s no reason to deliver anymore blows. Not by … not by my own hands …”

“Sanji?”

“Hmm?” asked Sanji. He wasn’t crying, but his voice was strained.

“You’re not damaged. You’re wounded. Remember those flowers? Healing and hope. You’re getting better Sanji. You are.”

Sanji nodded. “Um … how long till its ready?” he asked, trying to distract Zoro.

“I will stop drinking.”

Sanji gave him a strange look.

“But then I see a bottle of sake and it’s stupid _not_ to drink in the New Year, right?” Zoro shook his head with a laugh. “I’m better now though. I will not lose my temper. That went out the window when Nami starts shouting about how I’m drinking all her expensive wine. I will not scream at people who are still singing _The Little Drummer Boy_ in the middle of May. Believe it or not, people do that and then by that point in the year, I’ve forgotten it was even on my list.”

Sanji smiled. “What else?”

“I will get better friends, who don't end up in jail, that’s always on there, but eventually, they do something that makes me think they’re not that bad and then once I’ve secluded myself to the point where it’s impossible to make friends that year, they’re in jail again so yeah …” He chuckled. “I will get Nami to stop gambling. That’s mission impossible anyway though. I will train every day, that seems to be the only resolution I manage to keep. I won’t watch that crappy drama that’s on its fifth season for some reason … They have a New Year special every year and that’s gone too. I will figure out how to drive to Luffy’s house without getting lost. It never works. I won’t scare children on Halloween, but that’s got nothing to do with me, they’re always screaming monster or something.”

“You _do_ have a pretty intimidating scowl,” Sanji pointed out. “You should smile more, you look less vicious.”

Zoro snorted. “Give me something to smile about.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

“I usually tell myself I’ll dye my hair so people stop asking me if I’m the Grinch.”

Sanji laughed. “Seriously?”

“That or Ebenezer Scrooge, they say that too.” Zoro shrugged. “Christmas was never really my holiday.”

“What makes this year different?”

Zoro bit his lip and turned away, trying to hide his blush. “You’re here.”

“You sound like a stupid sap when you say that.”

“Yeah well—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Sanji cut him off. He gave him a gentle smile and Zoro’s furrowed brow smoothened as he smiled. “But if you dye your hair, I swear I’m killing you.”

Zoro laughed.

* * *

 

**Time: 11:58 PM JST**

**Time Until Christmas: 2 minutes**

* * *

 

“This is fucking amazing!”

Zoro smirked as Sanji drank eggnog for the first time, his eyes glowing.“Yeah? Don’t you feel deprived now?”

Sanji nodded. “This is fucking amazing!”

“You already said that,” Zoro said with a laugh.

“Fuck you, Marimo, I’m allowed to repeat things if I want.”

Zoro laughed. “Alright then, Love Cook.” He stared at the clock, checking. It was almost Christmas.

Sanji turned on the TV, putting his eggnog down.

“I thought you said it was fucking amazing, you’re ditching it all of a sudden?” Zoro teased.

“Shut up, there’s a _Pokémon_ Christmas special on,” Sanji snapped. And of course, this caused Zoro to laugh because really, wasn’t it Sanji who had been making fun of him for watching _Pokémon_?

“Merry Christmas, Sanji.”

Sanji gave him a strange look when he looked at the digital clock on the mantle piece. It was twelve o’clock. “Merry Christmas, Marimo,” he said softly.

Immediately, Zoro jumped up from the couch. “Alright, present time!”

“But the special just started,” Sanji argued.

“Deal with it!” Zoro told him. “Record it, tape it whatever. I’ll watch it with you later when we get back from Luffy’s annual Christmas party.”

“You will?”

“Yeah, I will,” Zoro said. There was a moment of silence between them, sweet and almost romantic before Zoro jumped again. “Now go get my present and then get your ass back here.”

Sanji rolled his eyes and went off to get Zoro his gift while Zoro jumped to the floor and started searching around the floor. It was underneath the couch _somewhere,_ he just didn’t know where.

“Uh, Marimo?”

“SHIT!”

Zoro scratched his head, rubbing the sore spot where his cranium had met the underside of the couch.

“Don’t sneak up on me!”

“What are you doing on the floor? Tell me you didn’t get me dust, because you know the majority of the dust in your house is composed of dead skin cells.”

“Aren’t you romantic?” Zoro grumbled. He sat on his knees and frowned, taking out his phone and turning on its light.

“Should I also mention that mistletoe is poisonous?”

“Kinky.”

Sanji choked.

“Don’t spill the eggnog on my carpet,” Zoro warned, when he saw it and reached out. “Give me just a second, I’ve almost got it.” His arm wasn’t long enough. Fucking hell. “Do you have a meter stick?”

“Oh yes, because I just carry meter sticks with me all the time.”

“Your salt is not appreciated at this moment.” Zoro frowned. “Get me my sword.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf? I said get me my sword.”

Sanji didn’t make a sound.

“What are you doing, just standing there?”

“You want _me_ to touch your swords?”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “I trust you, now get me a sword or you’re not getting a Christmas gift, and I really _will_ give you dead skin cells.”

When Sanji came back with Sandai in hand, Zoro slid it underneath the couch and swatted around until he heard it catch with the lighter. It slid from under the couch into the wide open.

Zoro sprung to his feet and jumped over the couch, dropping to pick up the gift, shoving it behind his back. “Alright, I’ll go first.”

“What if I _really_ wanted to go first?”

“You don’t.”

“Don’t make up my mind for me, bastard.”

Zoro sighed, exasperated. “Fine. Do you want to go first?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you make such a big fucking deal out of it?”

“It’s just polite to ask!” Sanji said. “Honestly, you have no manners.”

“And you’re _surprised_ by this?”

“Just give me my gift before I send yours back,” Sanji said playfully.

“Why do we even get gifts? It’s Jesus’ birthday. Does his sacrifice include the fact that he’s letting _us_ have presents instead of him? Why do we get gifts on his birthday, and then hunt down bunnies when he resurrects?”

“Christianity is weird, now stop stalling!”

Zoro rolled his eyes and pulled his present from behind his back.

“No wrapping?” He loved the feeling of Sanji’s hands brushing against his fingers.

“You should be grateful, my wrapping skills are atrocious.”

Sanji laughed and turned the lighter over. “I’ve been in need of a new one,” he said in a soft voice. His eyes widened when he spotted the engraving.

_Merry X-Mas —Marimo_

Sanji’s breath seemed to be caught in his throat as he stared at the lighter. He held it tightly in his hand before wrapping his arms around Zoro’s neck, pulling him close into a tight hug. “Zoro …” He sounded like he was on the verge of tears again, but Zoro knew this time they were happy tears.

Sanji let go and Zoro had to stop himself from diving back into it, chasing after his warmth. Instead, he gave him a smile.

“You better use it,” he told him with a firm scowl that was only half-hearted.

“ _Ahou_ , why wouldn’t I?”

Sanji bit his lip. “I feel kind of bad though now, since you gave me something so thoughtful and when it came down to it, I knew I couldn’t beat what I had gotten you for your birthday …” Sanji’s cheeks flushed red as he pulled out a nicely wrapped box. “I considered this other present but it was really stupid, so I sent it back. I had to ask Nami for some help and it kind of makes me think it’s more of a gag than anything but …”

Zoro unwrapped the gift, undoing the careful packaging, ignoring Sanji’s excuses. He really didn’t care _what_ Sanji had gotten him, he was just really excited that Sanji had gotten him anything.

It was a GPS.

“I know it’s stupid,” Sanji muttered, “I kept the bill, you can return it—”

“I love it,” Zoro said, trying to breathe through his laughter. “It’s fine Sanji, I love it.”

Sanji let out a sigh of relief that was almost hidden, but Zoro saw it because his only focus was on Sanji. It had been that way a lot recently.“You really _do_ look better when you smile.”

Zoro pulled Sanji to him, kissing him softly. Mouth against mouth, a gentle motion that was innocent and held the slightest hint of hesitance, reminding him of his first kiss with Sanji.

When he pulled away, he blushed. “Mistletoe,” he blurted out. “There was uh … mistletoe.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “There’s no mistletoe in the entire building. If we’re boyfriends, you shouldn't need a fucking excuse to kiss me, especially not such a shitty one like that!”

Zoro blinked. “We’re boyfriends?” He hadn’t wanted to put a label on what they were, in case he was wrong and so he had been hesitant to name it.

Sanji rolled his eyes. Zoro refrained from telling him that if he kept doing that, they’d get stuck that way. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah,” Zoro told him. “We’re really doing this. _Are_ we boyfriends?”

“Fine,” Sanji said, crossing his arms. “Do I annoy you?”

“All the time,” Zoro blurted out. Sanji didn’t look offended.

“Do you stay with me when I ask?”

“Um, yeah …?” Zoro frowned, confused. Sure, he stayed with the cook in the kitchen at pointless times when he could’ve been napping or training, but what did that have to do with anything? “So what?”

Sanji acted as though he hadn’t heard him. “Can you stand to sit in silence with me?”

“Yes, but you’re not explaining anything, so—”

“Do you listen to me?”

“I’m listening to you now,” Zoro said, getting a bit frustrated, “but you’re not listening to—”

“No, I mean when I have a problem, you listen to them, don’t you?” Sanji asked, giving him a look that clearly stated he didn’t want Zoro questioning him.

“Yeah.”

“We go grocery shopping together, right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing that for months now.”

“Do you give me a kiss when you say goodbye?”

“I mean, that’s sappy as shit, but I mean, sometimes—”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes."

“Then yeah, we’re in a relationship. At least, according to the Internet.”

Zoro stared at Sanji strangely. “I wonder what you do in your spare time …”

“I figured since you said we were dating, then we were boyfriends but I guess now it’s official,” said Sanji. “Are you okay with that?” he asked as though as an after thought but the crease in his brow showed how much he wanted Zoro to tell him the truth, and he wanted the truth to be that he was fine with it.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Zoro said slowly. “So what, now we’re official?”

Sanji nodded, seeming to roll on the balls of his feet, teetering. “Yeah, guess so …”

There was silence as Zoro thought it over.

_Boyfriend. Sanji’s my boyfriend and I’m his. I like the sound of that. Boyfriend. Wait—_

“Fuck, does that mean our anniversary is going to be Christmas?”

“Anniversary?” Sanji repeated. He smirked. “What makes you think you can keep me until next Christmas?”

Zoro knew he was never letting this amazing, mischievous cook go. Not even if he begged him to.


	28. Play Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Vague mentions of past abuse

“Hello boys, why are you here today?” asked the barmaid with a bright smile on her face. She eyed Zoro’s swords. “Are you here to fight?”

“Yeah.”

Makino nodded. “Well, there are some good opponents down there today so—”

“Oh, I’m not fighting them,” Zoro said, cutting her off. He ignored Sanji telling him it was beyond rude to interrupt a lady and continued. “I’m fighting him,” he gestured towards Sanji. “Nami’s been getting on our backs for it for the past while, so we figured we’d start the new year off with a bang.”

Makino gave him a strange look. “But it’s already the second week of January.”

“Yes but, see the Marimo here,” Sanji gestured towards Zoro, “didn’t want to be all bloody for the first week.”

“As if you could beat me,” Zoro scoffed.

“We’ll see,” Sanji teased back. “Can we go down?”

Makino nodded with a big grin. “Stay safe boys!”

“We will!” Sanji told her and they descended the stairs.

The moment the two were visible to Yosaku and Johnny, they were quickly ushered inside and the cook and his boyfriend were greeted by Nami almost immediately.

“So?” she pressed.

“So what?” demanded Zoro.

Sanji rolled his eyes at the swordsman’s inability to be chivalrous. “Good evening Nami. Zoro and I are here to fight, as you asked of us?” He sent her a grin. “We’re ready when you are.”

“How can you just tell her something like that?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “I think she deserves to know. Anyway,” he said, ignoring Zoro’s scowl, “when do you want us to fight?”

“Well, Luffy’s in the middle of a fight right now, so once he’s done I suppose,” she replied. She looked giddy, as though all of her dreams had come true. “I can’t believe you guys are actually going to fight! This is going to the be the fight of the century!”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but Sanji dragged him to their usual table and sat down.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” Sanji said. “We just need to have fun, that’s all.”

“Good luck having fun when I bash your face in.”

“What makes you think I’ll lay down easily?”

“Oh, it’s on, Curlicue!”

Zoro’s smile was infectious, which was what he’d blame when Luffy got away from the crowd and patted him on the back proudly. The force teetered him forward, but he grinned anyway.

“So, today’s the day, huh?” he asked.

“Who will _you_ be betting on?”

Luffy shrugged. “Dunno.”

Zoro laughed. “Well, prepare to watch this cook regret everything.” The swordsman nudged Sanji gently in the shoulder, before walking away to clear his head for the “main event”.

“You going to be okay with this?”

Sanji looked at Luffy strangely. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Zoro’s _really_ competitive, he won’t care if you’re a friend or an enemy, he goes all out. And plus, you’re in a relationship, aren’t you?”

Sanji nodded. It felt weird to say, and he was pretty sure he was supposed to feel more apprehensive to it, but he was more proud than anything. “It’s fine, you’re worrying too much Luffy,” he reassured him. “I respect Zoro as a swordsman, rival and adversary. It’d be stupid to take him on without knowing what he’s capable of, I know exactly what I’m getting into. Besides, you’re forgetting something.” Sanji turned to him with a wide grin. “Zoro may be a tough fighter and a brilliant swordsman, but he’s also the one who trained me.”

Ace blew his whistle.

“Our match is starting soon, I’d better get going.”

Luffy grinned and gave Sanji a thumbs up before sitting down next to Nami to watch the fight.

Despite having just relaxed Luffy, the nerves had just hit Sanji. He looked more confident than he felt as he stepped into the ring, Ace grinning at him.

He could not deny that Zoro was an amazing fighter, that was impossible to say without being a complete and utter liar and Sanji wasn’t going to become Usopp. At the same time though, he liked to think he and Zoro were on even ground, both putting in the same amount of effort into their fights and trying to one-up each other with an equal amount of struggle. He liked to think he was a bit of a challenge for the green-haired man.

“Tonight,” said Ace in a loud voice, “we are here to see the fight of the century!”

The entire crowd cheered and Sanji gave Zoro a look, who was watching him from his corner of the arena. They exchanged smirks. Nami knew how to advertise.

“We have Zoro, a returning champion, master of Santoryu, three-sword style. He’s tough, he’s strong, he’s agile, he kind of reminds me of a ballerina at times—”

“Ace!”

“And in the other corner,” Ace said changing topic, but not before quickly sending Zoro a wink, “we have Sanji! Now, you must know this blond, he’s impressed us since his first fight against the great Captain Luffy and even in pointless bar fights, has come out victorious with style. Neither man has lost a battle.” Sanji didn’t want to mention how Zoro’s encounter with Mihawk had injured him and landed him in the hospital and it seemed Zoro wasn’t in the mood to correct him either. “Now, Sanji, or rather, Blackleg Sanji as we’ve come to call him, has never fought against an armed opponent before, as far as we know,” said Ace. “However, another little known fact is that this swordsman and this _savate_ master are roommates!”

Sanji swore once the match was over, he was going to fucking kill Ace, and judging by Zoro’s glare, he’d be getting help.

“So perhaps this match won't be easy on this green-haired man’s conscious.” Ace grinned, far too happily for a man who was being glared at by two of Partys most fierce fighters. “Now, let’s revise the rules once more.

“Our little tangerine has requested special rules for this fight. Unlike the other fights, you boys are allowed free reign of the bar. If you want to take it into the stands, go nuts. Or so she says. Still though, this is _not_ a death match, so please, no aiming for vital organs, we’d like to refrain from having to send one of you two to the hospital.” He gave Zoro a pointed look before continuing. “Other changes to the rules include that we, the audience, are no longer the ones who determine whether or not the match is over. Instead, the match ends when either one of you are knocked unconscious or surrender.”

Sanji and Zoro scoffed at the thought.

Ace grinned. “Now, shall we?”

The entire crowd began to count down from three and the last thing Sanji heard clearly was Ace’s booming voice, screaming, “FIGHT!”

Sanji didn’t see the first attack coming. It was aimed at his head, and he had to duck, missing him by the skin of his teeth. “Hey, bastard, you got my cigarette!” It was now no longer usable. “Fucking Marimo!” he shouted, before aiming a kick for his stomach.

The swordsman saw it, read it and instantly reacted. He blocked it with Sandai and, to Sanji’s joy, Shusui.

He grinned. “Nice sword, where’d you get it?”

“Oh you know,” Zoro said with a shrug, his smirk as powerful with a sword in his mouth as it was without. “Just a little present.”

Sanji laughed and jumped back from him. It didn’t even feel like fighting, more like they were … playing with each other.

Zoro had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

_Read him, what’s he doing? Focus. Focus, Sanji._

Zoro’s swords were crossed over his chest. So he was planning on striking that way, huh?

Sanji jumped out of the way, landing on a table. He didn’t want to disturb those who were drinking. Though they were given free reign over the downstairs basement, he didn’t want to rack up a bill. He jumped back into the ring and went to attack Zoro in the face.

“And he misses by a mere millimetre!”

Sanji’s head reeled to see Ace with a megaphone. “What’s Blackleg doing now?” asked the older brother. He seemed to be laughing at him.

Blackleg … Sanji liked the name.

He only just caught the sound of Zoro’s sword swinging and skidded back. “Your fight’s over here,” said Zoro with a grin on his face.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“What’s this? Now Blackleg’s attacking with consecutive blows to the stomach! Is the great Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro being forced onto the defence?”

Sanji gave Zoro a look. “Pirate hunter?” he repeated, blocking an attack from Zoro’s sword.

“Luffy’s idea,” he replied off-handedly. “Shouldn’t you pay more attention to me?”

“And look at that, Zoro’s taken the lead back!”

Sanji ducked, avoiding a blow to his head. Zoro, caught off balance, teetered forward. Sanji kicked him in the back. Just when he thought Zoro would hit the floor, the man’s hands came out to stop himself and he used the floor as leverage to push himself up again. He reared for a full-blown attack with all three swords, but Sanji dodged, resulting in only a light nick on the shoulder.

“Marimo! I _just_ got this shirt fixed!” Sanji snapped, kicking harshly at Zoro’s legs, trying to catch him off balance.

It didn’t work. “It’s a shitty shirt anyway!”

“The fighters seemed to have taken to insulting each other while brawling!”

“SHUT UP!” both Zoro and Sanji snapped at the commentator.

“Oh, am I in trouble?” came Ace’s voice with a chuckle.

No, it wouldn’t do well to get distracted. Dropping himself to the floor, Sanji used his hands to sturdy himself as he made a forceful kick that got Zoro right in the gut. If Zoro were a normal person, he’d probably have fallen down, but Zoro _wasn’t_ a normal person. He just staggered back.

In the time it took Sanji to get back to his feet, Zoro swept underneath him and threw off his balance.

Sanji hit the floor, the wind knocked out of him.

His chest hurt from the fall.

Zoro came in to attack him, but Sanji kicked up, his foot connecting with the blade of Sandai. With a forceful push, the sword came out of Zoro’s hand and embedded itself into the wall between a couple who had previously been making out.

“Sorry,” Sanji apologized as he tried to stand, but just as he was getting up, Zoro jumped on him, trapping him on the ground.

Sanji wasn’t going to lie. The swordsman was heavy. 

He struggled to breathe under the man’s weight. His throat burned. It felt like there was blood on his tongue and his chest was contracting. He tried to manoeuvre himself underneath him, but Zoro had him caught, grabbing his legs tightly. Sanji squirmed, but Zoro wouldn’t let go.

“Fucking bastard.”

Zoro smirked. “Ditto.”

Sanji rolled his hips forward, and Zoro froze. “Do you want to do this _right now_ , in front of all these people?” whispered Zoro in his ear. “Should I have added kinky to my list?” His grip on Sanji didn’t loosen, it tightened.

Using his upper body strength, Sanji forced himself up so that he was in a sitting position. He then placed his arms a fair distance behind his head before thrusting upwards with his hips, trying to lift himself off the ground. Zoro was gritting his teeth and Sanji could tell this position was causing Zoro to get distracted.

Zoro’s full weight and pressure on him was lifted temporarily and that was all it took for Sanji to flip himself over, his legs lifting and landing where his hands were in a way that was almost unnatural. Correction: it _was_ unnatural. Zoro, still trying to hold on, was thrown against the floor harshly. As Sanji stood up and dusted off his pants, Zoro wiped his mouth. Blood was on his fingers. Standing up, he grinned. “See? I told you, your flexibility.”

Now was _not_ the time to blush. With this newfound goal to shut Zoro up, he forcefully kicked at him but Zoro dodged it with a clean jump backwards onto a table.

“ _Ahou_! Don’t you remember the tab?”

“We can pay for it,” Zoro replied, jumping to a new table as Sanji tried to kick him. “Besides, we’ve got free reign, remember?”

“I can’t tell if they're fighting or playing,” Sanji heard someone say from their seat.

“I think they’re … flirting?” one of them said in a confused voice.

Zoro had backed up three tables and the drinks were being thrown onto the ground. Sanji was surprised he hadn't accidentally stepped on someone’s fingers. Sanji was about to kick at him again when Zoro sheathed his swords quickly. Sanji was caught off guard and so he didn’t even realize Zoro had grabbed his shirt until he felt a tug and he was on the floor, lying on his back, staring up at the bright lights of the bar as Zoro stood up on the table over him.

“I’m a martial artist, remember?” Zoro reminded him. “ _Kenjutsu_ isn’t the only thing I do.”

Sanji gritted his teeth and stood up, avoiding the glass of the broken beer bottles.

He coughed.

He didn’t mean to sound like a petulant child, but it wasn’t fair. Zoro knew Sanji’s weaknesses. He'd never use his hands in a fight, not for anything other than leverage. Zoro knew he was safe from any punches coming his way and as much as Sanji wanted to throw him through a loop and leave him stunned with a broken nose courtesy of his fist, he didn’t dare. To injure his hands was the same as the death penalty.

_Your hands._

Zoro liked his hands. Now he had even more of a reason to treasure them.

So what _could_ he do? Zoro had a fierce determination and as much as Sanji respected and appreciated this trait of the swordsman, it didn’t help him in the least. He was getting anxious. Zoro could use any part of himself as a weapon, but Sanji was limited. Fuck, and Zoro had the swords too.

Sanji coughed again, feeling his throat clam up. He had to end this, somehow. He didn’t want to hurt the swordsman. He knew Zoro didn’t want to hurt him either, he avoided vitals and areas that would immobilize Sanji long enough for another attack. He had four options:

1: knock Zoro unconscious

2: let Zoro knock _Sanji_ unconscious

3: concede

4: make Zoro surrender

None of these options seemed possible.

Sanji knew of Zoro’s competitive streak. There was no way he was just going to _let_ Sanji throw him around and give up. No, giving up was impossible. Even with the craziness that was what felt like a battle to the death, Sanji wasn’t going to give up and Zoro was too prideful to do that as well. He wasn’t stupid, Zoro was a swordsman and honour was everything to him. At the same time, Sanji couldn’t let himself fall unconscious either, so his only option was to knock Zoro out. It had never happened in all their time of training for either man.

_Fuck, how do I do this?_

The memory of Zoro sprawled on the floor with blood leaking out of him profusely, his usually tanned complexion pale, had made Sanji’s blood run cold. It was too fresh of a memory for him.

What if he could somehow mimic unconsciousness? Could he get Zoro unsteady enough that he couldn’t move? Could he knock him out for say, a few seconds? Was that enough to guarantee it was over?

Sanji was tired. He didn’t know how much longer he could fight and the tightening in his chest had increased. He was swallowing back coughs, which felt like swallowing bubbles of air and it was starting to hurt his throat.

They exchanged blows for what felt like forever, neither of them showing signs of a visible hit. Sanji was tired but Zoro looked fine. Stamina. He totally should’ve complimented the man on it.

He had to end this. Now.

Taking a deep breath that felt like needles were prickling his throat as each lungful of air was inhaled, he aimed his strike at Zoro. Zoro grabbed his foot to stop him and their eyes connected for a moment.

_Sorry._

With as much force as Sanji’s tired body could manage, he forced his foot back into the ground. Zoro was holding his foot with both hands, standing right under him. He tried to move away as gravity came and helped Sanji accomplish his job, but he just wasn’t fast enough. Whether it was exhaustion, or the look, Zoro’s usual speed just wasn’t there.

As Sanji’s foot came down harshly against the wooden floorboards, Zoro seemed to follow it.

Zoro let out a groan, unmoving.

“I think he’s out,” Sanji said, trying his best to breathe normally. He tried to concentrate on his breathing rather than Zoro’s limp body. He could feel a wheeze as it came out of his lips and began to cough again.

“Sanji, are you okay?” asked Nami, running to his side.

“Fine,” he said, coughing into his fist. He held it in and counted to ten. “I just need water. Is it over?”

Nami nodded. “I think Zoro’s been knocked out.” She got him the water he requested and Ace came over to him.

The dark haired man lifted Sanji’s arm that felt like lead into the air. “And the winner is Blackleg Sanji!”

It was at that moment that Zoro’s eyes slowly cracked open and the look on his face was devastating.

* * *

 

Going home three million yen richer didn’t make Sanji feel any better. He and Zoro had driven home in silence and though the tightness in his chest had eased up, Sanji didn’t feel any better. In fact, he felt sicker.

When they got inside the apartment, he took off his shoes and watched as Zoro went to the fridge and gulped down half a carton of milk in one go.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” replied Zoro, his voice sounding distant.

“Are you upset?”

“No.” The crushed carton said otherwise.

“Look, Zoro—”

“I don’t need sympathy,” Zoro said, cutting him off. “It’s fine, really.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m allowed to lie, fuck off, Dart Brow!”

Sanji bit his lip. He wouldn’t say he was sorry, because he wasn’t and he didn’t want to lie to Zoro. Instead, he turned his head away and reached for a cigarette. It didn't calm him down like it used to. Not at all. He didn’t want to be rocky with the swordsman, didn’t like the tension in the air around them as Zoro bit into an apple. Didn’t like the way his stomach coiled nervously. Where had the ease gone? Was the honeymoon phase of the relationship already over?

Sanji hadn’t expected their relationship to be perfect, he wasn’t a moron, but at the same time, he had hoped …

_Liar, you_ **_are_ ** _a fucking moron. Life isn’t a movie, this isn’t going to go off like some chick-flick or something. Get it through your thick head, this is real life._

Sanji entered the kitchen. Even if he didn’t have the overly-romantic riding off into the sunset ending of those movies (which he would call bullshit, while holding on tightly to whoever was closest to him’s arm, trying to hide his tears as the Titanic sunk. He didn’t scream when that idiot Rose let go of the love of her life. No, he was a stoic manly man.), that didn’t mean he’d let this slide by. If they fell apart and Sanji did nothing to prevent it, then he’d have no one to blame but himself and he wasn’t about to let this all go without putting up a fight.

“Want me to make you something?” he asked softly.

Zoro shook his head.

The swordsman had never refused his food before.

“Not hungry,” the moss-head mumbled under his breath.

And then said Marimo’s stomach growled.

Sanji said nothing. Instead, he just opened the pantry and started to cook him food. Zoro said nothing when he heard the oil hiss, hitting the pan.

It was the first time in a long time since Sanji had cooked in complete silence while the swordsman was present. Usually they’d be playing some kind of pointless game, whichever one popped into Sanji’s head next, and then they’d sit down and eat. This time, Sanji made enough for one and set it on the table in front of Zoro.

He knew his show was on in a few minutes, but he didn’t feel up for it. He was about to head to his room when he felt a hand on his wrist. Zoro’s hand.

“Wait.”

Sanji waited.

“I …” Zoro took a deep breath. “I want a rematch!”

The swordsman was blushing, from his too-loud declaration or the fact that he needed a rematch, Sanji didn’t know. He didn’t care. He just knew that going to bed without this resolved would surely haunt his dreams and he’d never get any sleep.

“Okay,” he said softly.

* * *

Zoro had taken Sandai back from the wall and was ready to fight. He had determination in his eyes, the dedication that Sanji had complimented him on not so long ago.

“Okay. Whoever lands three attacks first wins,” Sanji explained. “Three _solid_ attacks.”

Zoro nodded.

“Alright.” Sanji gulped. “Start.”

Zoro lunged forward and Sanji took a step backwards, his back hitting the wall almost instantly.

Zoro aimed for his head and Sanji ducked down. The sword was instantly pulled back and Sanji’s leg wrapped around Zoro’s, pulling. Zoro hit the floor.

“One.”

Zoro made a sound that reminded Sanji very much of a growl, picking himself back up off the floor.

They were both tired, to have a match so soon after they had just fought was utter stupidity. Still, Zoro probably wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he tied with Sanji at the very least. Zoro struck at Sanji’s back, but the cook flipped quickly over him, landing on the other side of him. Without his full supply of energy, Sanji was slower, his reflexes were duller. He expected Zoro to use this to his advantage, but Zoro appeared to be as tired out as he was.

Zoro made to attack down Sanji’s arm. Sanji waited, determining Zoro’s new timing given the variables.

_Now._

Sanji moved, but not before Zoro nicked him in the shoulder.

“One,” Sanji said. “One all.”

Zoro shook his head. “No, that doesn’t count. That wasn’t a solid attack. It … it wasn’t full power—”

“You ripped my fucking shirt again, that’s a solid attack,” Sanji argued. “Deal with it Marimo, we’re tied for now.”

Zoro grumbled under his breath.

Only someone who had as much honour and pride as Zoro would refuse to take a point freely given by Sanji. It wasn’t a lie, his shoulder did hurt like a bitch, but Zoro was also right. It wasn’t as powerful as it could’ve been. It wasn’t “solid” in Zoro’s opinion. They had to agree to disagree— as far as Sanji was concerned, they were tied.

Sanji tried to kick at Zoro’s chest, but the swordsman blocked him. With his two swords preventing Sanji’s foot from colliding with his face, Zoro angled to attack with Wado. The sword grazed Sanji in the shoulder. The same shoulder. Sanji pushed himself back. “Two to one.”

“That wasn’t—”

“Two to one,” Sanji repeated in a firm voice.

Zoro prepared to attack again but Sanji beat him to it. He delivered a blow to Zoro’s gut while his arms were raised to and the swordsman’s back slammed against the wall.

“Two to two,” Sanji said. “Last point declares winner.”

With that, he readied himself to defend. Zoro attacked him forcefully, trying to push him against the wall. The swords hit against each other, making a cringe-worthy noise as steel screeched against steel. Sanji pushed back against him, but Zoro pushed harder until Sanji felt like his lungs were being crushed.

“ _Remitto_!” Sanji gasped out, trying to get the air back into his lungs.

Zoro gave him a confused look.

“Yield, I yield.”

Zoro didn’t stop pressing. “Fucking bastard,” he muttered. “What, you’re saying you surrender?” he demanded. “You’re just giving up?”

“Zoro … I … I can’t … breathe.”

Immediately, Zoro pulled away from him, running his fingers through his hair as Sanji tried to collect his breath. “Fucking bastard. You’re a right bastard, you know that, Dart Brow?”

“How can I forget, with you constantly reminding me?” Sanji tried to hold back a cough. He shook his head. “Look you got your rematch, can we go to bed?”

“It wasn't a fair game!” Zoro yelled. “You fucking cheater, you totally threw the match!”

“Why would I throw a match? Why would I cheat so that you’d win?”

Zoro shook his head. “Don’t you dare fucking pity me,” he snapped. “I can handle a loss fairly won, what I can’t is a victory handed over to me undeservingly.”

Sanji was tired. He was pissed. He did not want to have this conversation. “Oh yeah?” he yelled. “I could see how well you were taking it!”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to fucking _give up_ in the middle of a fight!”

“If you don’t want my fucking pity, don’t make me pity you!”

_BANG!_

Sanji’s back was slammed against the wall once more, with Zoro’s hands gripping his collar tightly. “Don’t you _dare_ pity me, you bastard, you hear me? Because I have never pitied you, _never_ , you understand me? And face it, you were a very pitiful thing when we first met. You were pathetic, now that I think about it. You didn’t know how to smile, you didn’t know how to look people in the eye, you could never walk like you weren’t carrying at thousand things on your back, you were always weighed down. You were a complete wreck, abused and unwanted by those who surrounded you, you had the perfect fucking sob story!

“I _never once_ felt an ounce of pity for you. Not because I didn’t care, fuck no, I care, you have _no idea_ how much I fucking care, but I never thought you were weak, never looked at you with those fucking sympathetic eyes. Because when I saw you, I saw strength. I didn’t see a man who was made of scars. I didn’t, and still don’t see you as the bruised rotten apple you think you are. I’ve _never_ seen that in you, because I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen fury and I’ve seen a thousand fucking pitiful people, and you will _never_ be one of them, because you are so _alive_ that even when they shoved you down, you stood back up.

“You smoke your fucking cigarettes with a broken wrist, and you smooth-talk and use gentle words when you want to, even though they were never directed at you, and you could’ve turned out to be a complete abusive _asshole_ , you could’ve become a man who hated the world and wanted to watch it burn. But you’re not. Because where it would’ve turned some people bitter and rotten, it made you _shine_ like no one I’ve ever seen before, and you’ve come a fucking long way. Pity is an emotion I reserve for those who deserve it, for the ones I feel bad for, the ones I think are so fucking pathetic, they can’t wake up, they can’t bother to face anything. Pity is what I reserve for _cowards_. That was, and never will be you.

“Don't you dare do this to me! If you do, I swear, I’m never forgiving you!”

His harsh breath was hitting Sanji’s face, and his grip was tightening. Sanji’s chest was constricting and the longer it took him to inhale, the longer Zoro seemed to hesitate until he let him go and, energy spent, Sanji slid to the floor, trying to catch his breath between coughs.

Zoro shut his eyes tightly, his fists clenched. When he looked down at Sanji, on the floor, he frowned. “No …” He was shaking his head but Sanji couldn’t see clearly because the room was spinning and he couldn’t gather his breath and then he heard Zoro swear and—

_BANG!_

Zoro’s fist connected with the wall above Sanji and he flinched. He couldn’t help it.

Zoro looked down at him with self-loathing in his eyes. The swordsman dropped to his knees in front of him and reached out for him, maybe to pull him into a hug, maybe to do something else, Sanji didn’t know, because then Zoro’s hands recoiled back.

It was at the moment, when Zoro turned his head away and stood up, shoving his hands tightly in his pockets, that Sanji realized what was going on in Zoro’s head.

_He’s scared. He’s scared that_ **_I’m_ ** _scared. Of him._

Zoro couldn’t be more wrong. “Zoro,” Sanji called to him, scrambling to get to his feet. His throat hurt, but he fought it down. This was more important. “Zoro!”

The swordsman didn’t turn around, he just kept walking.

“Zoro, fucking listen to me when I talk!” Sanji demanded.

The green-haired man’s pace sped up and Sanji forced his energy-dry body off the floor to follow him and then the door slammed.

The fucking idiot was going outside in the middle of January without a coat.

Sanji grabbed his coat, along with Zoro’s and ran after him. Even if it was in the heat of the moment, Zoro would undoubtably get lost and wind up trying to sleep in a telephone booth without any cash for a motel.

The snow was falling, but Sanji was determined as he searched for his stupid-ass boyfriend. The wind whipped through his hair, but he was running on adrenaline and the cold barely registered. It was almost like a scene in those stupid romantic comedies, where the man fucked up so bad, he literally had to _run_ after the girl, except, though it was usually at the climax, Sanji felt they had never captured the intensity and desperation of the moment, because aside from the weather, and aside from the fact that they had just had a big fight, Zoro was a fucking moron who could very probably die of hypothermia if he didn’t find his way back.

When he finally managed to catch sight of the idiot, he raced at him and promptly fell on his ass.

_Fuck black ice._

“RORONOA ZORO GET YOUR FUCKING ASS BACK HERE!”

The green-haired man stopped abruptly, sliding on the ice. They never salted the roads, which was probably the worst thing about having this argument outside of all places.

“The fuck are you doing on the ground, bastard?”

Sanji grit his teeth. He didn't have his cigarettes to warm him up and he was exhausted. It had been an insanely long day, between the two fights and dealing with Zoro in general was very energy draining. He didn’t it in him to make this last that long. “Who’s fucking fault do you think that is?” he demanded, standing up. He wavered, unsteady on his feet. “Are you going to come over here, or am I going to have to drag your sorry-ass back to the apartment?”

Zoro was silent.

_He must be freezing in that snow._

The swordsman was wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants that Sanji knew for a _fact_ had some holes in it, and his shirt was a plain t that gave him nearly no protection whatsoever from the wind and the snow that was falling. It did look beautiful, to see the cold drops of white decorate his hair.

“You look like you have fucking dandruff.”

“Shut up!”

“Make me!”

Zoro flinched.

“Don’t make me come over there!”

“Just try it!”

There were pedestrians who were walking on the street and a little boy was pointing at Zoro, asking why he had green hair, but Sanji ignored them as he crossed the distance over to Zoro. Once he was in front of the idiot swordsman, he flicked him in the forehead.

“The fuck was that for?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just go back to the apartment, alright? You’ll freeze out here.”

“Not without you.”

“Idiot, you nearly died once of hypothermia—”

“And you’ll die now if you don’t fucking take your jacket!” Sanji thrust the aforementioned article of clothing at Zoro, who stared at it. “This is a matter of survival, or do you really believe that legend that idiots don’t get colds? Because nowhere in it does it say they can’t die from being turned into a popsicle.”

Zoro grumbled, taking the jacket from Sanji’s offered hand, but he was careful that they never touched.

“This was a bad idea.”

“You think?”

“No, I meant …” Zoro gestured between the two of them. “This. This was a mistake.”

Sanji stared.

“I … I’m too violent, and I don’t .. I don’t know how to stop being violent. I yell a lot, and I have a really bad temper. I’m not gentle, I don’t know how to be gentle. You shouldn’t have to put up with my shit all the time, I’m an arrogant asshole who doesn't know how to do anything right anyway. I dropped out of college, I don’t have a handle on my emotions, I can’t formulate proper sentences, I just … I think it would be better if we just … stopped.”

“Stopped?”

“Yeah.”

Sanji frowned. “Don’t give me that shit.”

“W-what?”

“ _I said_ , don’t give me that shit!”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Sanji snapped. “You’re a fucking moron, and I’m never letting you forget it. You think I don’t know how violent you are? You’re a fucking martial artist who fights with _three swords_ , swords I’ve been up against _twice_ tonight, and it wasn’t the first time, and certainly won’t be the last time either.

“You think I’ve been living with you for so many months and I never realized how fucking terrible you were at emotions? At words, at eating like a normal human being? Don’t give me this shit, you hear me? If you think that I’m under some kind of illusion about who you are, you’re fucking wrong. It’s not like because I’m dating you, I’ve suddenly decided all your flaws don’t fucking exist, because they’re so fucking _obvious_ , it’s impossible to forget them.

“You still watch _Galley La_ , and then you pretend you don’t and you play sudoku with a fucking pen, when you don’t even know how to do them! You never do the laundry right, which is why I have pink boxers to show for it, you couldn’t find your own car for a solid thirty minutes just because you couldn’t figure out which door you walked in, and you think I don’t hear you at one in the morning doing stupid work-outs if you feel like you haven’t gotten enough hours in yet? You’re a fucking mess!”

Zoro opened his mouth to retort, but then he closed it again. He stared down at the ground and dug his fucking slipper (because he hadn’t bothered to put on fucking shoes, of course he hadn’t, he had just stormed out to be all dramatic and over the top) into the pavement, as if by rearranging the snow, he’d manage to dig himself out of the mess. “Exactly.” He swallowed audibly. “So forget about it. We’re done.”

“Don’t fuck with me!”

Zoro’s eyes turned the size of saucers. “I—”

“What are you so scared of? You think _I’m_ scared? You don’t want me to pity you? Don’t give me a reason to pity you. You reserve that for cowards, remember? Are you a coward, Roronoa Zoro? I’d fucking kick you if we weren’t standing on ice! You think I’m here, in the freezing cold, giving myself literal blue balls just for you to turn to me and say we’re done?”

Zoro frowned. “I just thought—”

“You thought I was scared of you. Which has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and mind you, I’ve heard bullshit from rich aristocrats over nearly millions of business dinners.”

Zoro looked so small this way, with the snowflakes resting on his eyelashes, his tan skin turning whiter from the cold. “Y-you’re not?”

“No, I’m not scared of you, Marimo,” said the blond, rolling his eyes. “And you want to know why? Because I _know you_. It’s part of who you are, to be violent and to scream and to lose your shit over the stupidest, littlest things. Apparently, it’s also part of who you are to be a self-sacrificing asshole when you don’t have to be. I am not, nor will I ever be, scared of you. Because I’m terrified.”

Zoro choked on the cold air, his eyes filling with regret. “I see—”

“No, you don’t see. You _never fucking see_. Because you’re doing that thing again, where you jump to conclusions and think you can read my mind like some Professor X shit. I’m terrified, but not for the reasons you think.” When he saw Zoro open his mouth, Sanji glared at him. “It’s my turn to talk, so shut your fucking mouth, Marimo!”

Zoro complied.

Sanji took several deep breaths, his whole body shuddering with them as the cold air shocked his system into gear. He could do this.

“When I went to buy you those flowers, I got into an interesting conversation with the employee there. I told him I thought it was stupid that roses were the flowers of love when they had so many fucking thorns. He more or less told me that love is letting someone hurt you, giving them the power to hurt you, and trusting that they won’t.

“I don’t mind that you’re always forceful, or that you get mad. I don’t care that you raise your voice, you wouldn’t be _you_ if you didn’t do that. I _like it_ when you do that, because I know you don’t treat me any different from anyone else. You don’t see me as something fragile, something that will break. You trust me to be able to take it, and I love that you do that. You respect me.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t love you, because I have no fucking idea what love is, and I don’t even know if I’m able to love someone, especially given the way those cooks fucked me up. But I’m trusting you. Not to hurt me.

“And you can be as rough as you want with me. You can yell and spit in my face and slam doors and bitch about how I’m an insufferable person who you regret meeting some days, and I’ll take it. Because I’ll forgive you. And I don’t think love is never saying sorry, not like those stupid posters always say. I think love _is_ saying sorry. A lot and often. Because you love them enough to put aside your pride and say that you’re sorry.

“The reason I’m terrified … the reason I’m afraid of you …” He bit his lip, unsure whether or not he was able to finish his sentence. He felt like he was choking up, like his brain was telling him to do the sensible thing and to stop himself from speaking before he said something he’d regret. Instead, he pushed forward. “Because you can hurt me. If you ever … if you ever left, if you ever decided you didn't need me anymore … I …” Sanji bit the inside of his cheek. _Focus on that pain, ignore the blurriness. Ignore it._ “I …” He tried to force the words out, but they wouldn’t come.

Zeff always told him that if it didn’t work the first few times, don’t continue. It would make him even more anxious if he kept struggling. _You’ll always have time to come back to it when you’re ready, when you can say it. I’m not going anywhere, I’m ready to listen when you can make that stupid tongue of yours work properly,_ is what he’d always say.

“You get the idea,” he finished lamely.

Silence.

Zoro’s grey eyes were turning from steel into something more of a silver. “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to fuck up.”

“We’re standing in the middle of the street, late at night, freezing our asses off, because you decided to up and run out on me. You’ve already fucked up.”

Zoro laughed, rolling his eyes. It sounded tense. “I mean I’m going to fuck up more.”

“And so will I,” Sanji said. “I’m not saying I’m perfect. We’re not perfect, and we never will be. Look at us, with your hair and my eyebrows, we’re walking disasters. So how about you come with me, and I’ll walk you back to the apartment? One disaster to another.”

“Shit.”

“Hmm?”

“Shit-apartment.”

Sanji grinned.

Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

 

When they got back inside, Sanji hung up his coat and grinned.

“Want a rematch?”

“A rematch?” Zoro said, raising an eyebrow. “You sure you’re up for it?”

“Not that kind of rematch.”

Zoro blinked.

An evil grin spread across the blond’s face. “Marimo, have you ever played Are You Nervous Yet?”

  
“It’s simple. All you need to do is get the other person to admit they’re nervous first,” Sanji explained. “Each person takes turns touching the other. You start at the head and move downwards. Each time you go down, you ask if they’re nervous. The first one to say yes loses.”

“And you’re not going to cheat?” Zoro asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Enlighten me, how can I cheat in a game like this?”

“Are you sure you want to?” Zoro asked. “Are you … are you comfortable with …?”

“Zoro, I gave you a blowjob, and you’ve jacked me off, I think now’s a bit too late to act all self-conscious.”

A grins started to spread across Zoro’s face.

They had taken off their jackets and hung up their winter clothes and were now sitting facing each other on the couch.

Sanji was lying. He was nervous, _beyond_ nervous. He didn’t know how his body would react, if Zoro would do something and Sanji would hate it, and it would turn Zoro off. He didn’t trust his own body’s reactions. But he was going to hold on as long as he could, he owed Zoro that much. “Do you want to start?”

“Okay.” The swordsman lifted his hand, beginning to run his fingers through Sanji’s hair. “Like this?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Sanji replied, feeling his whole body respond to Zoro’s touch.

“Are you nervous yet?” Zoro asked, his cool breath brushing the shell of Sanji’s ear.

He shivered involuntarily.

“No,” he said, trying to sound firm.

Zoro let out a light chuckle. “This could be fun.”

Sanji ran his own fingers through Zoro’s hair, feeling the soft texture underneath his fingers, tugging gently. “Are you nervous yet?”

“Nope.” Damn that cocky bastard with that confident smirk. Zoro’s hand moved from Sanji’s hair to his cheek, catching Sanji off guard. He’d expect Zoro to go for his neck. He could feel the man’s calluses as they brushed against his soft skin and Sanji knew he was blushing. “Nervous yet?”

“No.” He lowered his hand from Zoro’s hair to his left ear, pulling lightly at his earrings. “You? Are you nervous yet?”

Zoro shook his head, but Sanji could see his Adam’s apple bob.

The green-haired man’s hand moved from Sanji’s cheek to the back of his neck, slowly pulling him closer. They were forehead to forehead, so close Sanji could taste Zoro on his lips. “Nervous?” Zoro asked in a seductive tone.

“N-no,” Sanji stuttered.

Zoro smirked.

Sanji glared back.

The blond’s hand moved down from Zoro’s ear all the way to his chest. As he felt each of the dips and valleys of Zoro’s chest underneath his fingertips, a chill of wonder and thrill shot through him, to the point where he almost forgot about the game completely.

Zoro cleared his throat.

“Nervous yet?”

“No,” replied Zoro. “See something you like?”

“Maybe,” Sanji replied in a small voice.

Foreheads still pressed together, Sanji’s hand paused its exploration of Zoro’s chest. He didn’t dare move as Zoro moved from his neck down. He tried not to tense up, knowing Zoro would go for his torso, when the man surprised him as his fingers went to his shoulder-blade, and then lightly ran down his arm, giving him goosebumps. “Nervous?” he asked and with each letter, Sanji swore the distance between them was closing.

“M-maybe.”

“That wasn’t a yes,” Zoro pointed out. “Your turn.”

Sanji moved from Zoro’s chest down to his thigh. He rubbed it gently, before squeezing it ever so slightly. The cook looked him straight in the eye, but Zoro had closed his. He was breathing through his nose. “Nervous?” Sanji asked, the thick tension surrounding them.

“You wish,” Zoro’s eyes opened. “Daring, aren’t you?” He let his hand move from Sanji’s arm to one of his hands, lacing them together. “Nervous yet?”

Sanji couldn’t hold in his blush. “Yes.”

“Too bad,” Zoro told him softly, closing the space between them.

Sanji practically sunk into him, the hand on Zoro’s thigh about to lift to wrap around his neck, but the swordsman covered it with his own, keeping it in place. He let go of the hand he was holding, and used his free arm to guide Sanji closer to him.

“Zoro,” Sanji gasped, pulling him closer by tugging at his hair gently. Zoro let himself be guided to him and took Sanji’s bottom lip in between his own before letting it go. It felt so sensual, so … _intimate_.

It was soft and it was slow, innocent almost. One of Sanji’s legs wrapped itself around Zoro’s waist, though it was an odd position given how they were sitting.

He pulled Zoro closer and Zoro didn’t seem to be complaining.

Sanji felt his stomach knot and his breath seemed to be cut short. He slowly let Zoro go, pulling away. Still pressed forehead to forehead, he tried to catch his breath.

“I win,” Zoro said with a smirk, his eyes playful.

Sanji nodded, giving him a small smile but something told him that this feeling in his chest, his shortness of breath, wasn’t entirely because of Zoro’s kiss.


	29. Be My Valentine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Mentions of Sanji's past shitty life?

February 14th. Valentine’s Day. Guillotine Day. The day St. Valentine was killed for being a martyr. The day girls bought a thousand chocolates, handing them out to their thousands of crushes, bumbling through confessions. The day guys got cavities from being unable to refuse the sweets brought to them. The day that was the utter bane of Roronoa Zoro’s existence.

The stupid red hearts had been everywhere recently, no matter where he turned. Each year he wished somehow that the second week of February would just vanish into smoke magically because quite frankly, he couldn’t stand it. The sappiness, the stuffed bears holding hearts that read “ _je t' heart_ ”. It wasn’t even grammatically correct, the phrase was “ _je t’aime_ ”, not “ _je t’heart_ ”. True, it was a picture of a heart and not the word, otherwise he’d _really_ call them idiots, but still, it was wrong. The Valentine’s Day specials on TV made his stomach churn, almost as much as the stupid incorrect symbol people called a heart— it wasn’t pretty, it was a fucking organ that kept you alive, it wasn’t supposed to be pretty! It was supposed to pump blood throughout your entire body, it wasn’t supposed to be slapped onto sales signs.

“Hey, Sanji?”

His blond boyfriend turned at the sound of his name. He put a splash of soya sauce into the frying pan before responding. “Yeah?”

“Valentine’s Day …”He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “What do you think of it?”

Sanji paused. “What do _you_ think of it?”

“I …” Zoro considered what he was going to say. He didn’t like Valentine’s Day, that was no secret from his friends. Maybe Sanji didn’t know yet. Should he lie? Tell him he liked it? Zoro frowned. If there was no honesty in a relationship, how was it supposed to work? “Hate it,” he confessed.

“You do?” asked Sanji, his voice sounding quieter than before.

“Yeah,” Zoro said, feeling more at ease talking to Sanji about it. “Can’t stand it. I remember at school, these girls would just walk up to me and shove chocolate in my face and they’d just rush out this weird jumble of words that I think were confessions. They always got so upset when I wouldn’t take the chocolate. It’s not my fault that I don’t like sweets.” He shrugged. “If they had really liked me, they’d have known that.”

“But, isn’t half of liking someone the process of getting to know them? I mean, I had to spend about a month to know you don’t like chocolate. If you never gave them the chance to learn … isn’t that kind of like making them give up before they had a chance to start?”

“Why are you getting all emotional on me, cook?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No reason,” Sanji said, turning his attention towards the stove.

“You never told me what you thought of Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s not important,” said Sanji in a soft voice. “It’s no big deal.”

“Come on, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t hear my boyfriend’s opinion?” Boyfriend. Zoro tried not to grin too much. He still loved the sound of it and the way it felt when it rolled off his tongue. “I’ll tickle you if you don’t tell me.”

“That’s your weakness, _ahou._ ”

“Anyone ever tell you how rude you are?” Zoro muttered in his ear, wrapping his arms around Sanji. Sanji immediately tensed, but just when Zoro was about to let go, Sanji let out his breath again and relaxed into his hold. “Calling me _ahou_ and all.”

“Would you prefer _baka_?”

“They mean the same thing,” Zoro reminded him.

“ _Baka_ ’s politer.”

“You’re just proving my point.”

The blond turned his head to try and meet his gaze, but Zoro buried his own head into Sanji’s neck. “Zoro …” His voice became soft and quiet. Zoro waited anxiously for Sanji’s words. He was ready to bet it was something really seductive. “Get the fuck off of me, I’m cooking.” And yet, Zoro had to count to ten to calm his body down.

“This is what I meant, you have a filthy mouth,” Zoro said, backing away with his hands up in mock surrender. “But seriously, what do you think of Valentine’s Day?”

Sanji sighed. “I don’t … mind it, exactly,” he said softly. “I don’t hate it like you do, it’s just a holiday that’s there, right? And yeah, the fact that women are treated with respect on this day is great, but it’s kind of stupid that they aren’t treated that way all around the year …”

“See, that’s my point!” Zoro said with a big grin. “To act differently just cause the date says you need to be more lovey-dovey is stupid, isn’t it? Especially considering that Valentine’s Day is a corporate scheme to suck desperate men dry of all their money. You could do that pointless romantic shit any time in the year, to have a whole holiday dedicated to some day a guy died is hardly necessary.”

“Well … I wouldn’t put it like that exactly,” Sanji said slowly. “I’ve celebrated Valentine’s Day a lot, the Baratie makes special menus for different holidays. I’ve grown used to it.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ve never had— never mind.” Sanji turned away from Zoro and went back to his stir-fry. “So we won’t celebrate it, okay. I can do that. Besides, you wouldn’t want chocolate anyway, would you?”

Zoro grinned. “Great.”

He didn’t see the strained look in Sanji’s eyes when he smiled.

* * *

_SMACK!_

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Zoro wasn’t sure if he wanted to clean out his ear, or cover his stinging cheek. He opted for his ear. All of Nami’s screaming was starting to piss him off.

“I told you, we aren’t celebrating Valentine’s Day,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not that into it and neither is Sanji.”

“Are you a moron?” She shook her head. “Never mind, of course you are. Really, I thought you and Sanji were getting better at understanding each other, but you just keep taking two steps back and one step forward!” Nami sent a harsh glare in Zoro’s direction. “Zoro, talk to me. Tell me, what kind of person do you think Sanji is?”

_Sexy. Strong. Flexible._ **_Very_ ** _flexible._

“Zoro?”

“Hmm?”

“You were thinking dirty thoughts, weren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Zoro hissed. “Um … you were saying something?”

“Zoro, don’t tell me you don’t understand the way your own boyfriend’s mind works.” She shook her head. “He’s a total romantic, you realize that, right?”

“But—”

“There’s no but about it, Sanji eats that shit up. Do you know what Valentine’s Day means to romantics?”

Zoro sighed. “Don’t tell me I screwed up again. Why can’t he screw up our relationship for once?”

“It’s just because you’re a blunder headed idiot. Honestly, can’t you tell when he’s lying?”

“Just cause I’m not a mind-reader—”

“You don’t need to read minds,” Nami snapped. “You just need to look him in the eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul you know.”

“Who believes any of those crap sayings?” Zoro ran his fingers through his hair. “I can fix this. I can totally fix this …”

The question was only _how?_

“You have no idea how to fix this, do you?”

“I do,” Zoro protested.

“Oh yeah? How?”

“I just need to …” Zoro made several hand gestures that had no real connection to anything, nor did they hold any meaning to anyone, himself included. Eventually he just threw his hands up in the air pointlessly when Nami raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, do some romantic shit or something!”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re hopeless,” she muttered under her breath.

“Am not.”

“You just called it romantic shit.”

“I—”

“No. You cannot defend yourself against that. Do you even know how to read body language?”

“Body language?”

“Yes, reading the body and understanding things that aren’t spoken, only displayed through movement of the body. I’m not a dictionary, I can’t define everything for you.”

“Okay, I get it, of course I fucking understand body language! Just cause I didn’t get your fancy terminology, doesn’t mean I’m clueless,” he snapped.

“No, Zoro, what you know is direct body language. You know how to read people’s bodies to determine their next move. Physically. What I’m talking about is something much more subtle.” She laughed to herself. “That’s why you don’t get it. Look, either way, you need to know it. You and I both speak using body language, regardless of whether or not we realize we’re doing it.”

“This another one of those psychological things about your subconsciousness, isn’t it?” Zoro rubbed his face for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Okay, fine, load your bullshit on me.”

“Psychology is an actual course you can take, some people major in it,” Nami said. “And it’s very complicated, understanding the human mind is not easy.”

“Isn’t it based on chemistry?”

“It’s based on chemical releases of the brain and various other variables.”

“Did you major in psychology?”

“No,” said Nami, wrinkling her nose. “I majored in meteorology.”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got that all sorted out, don’t talk to me about the human psyche, Little Miss Sunshine.”

Nami glared at him. “Zoro, we’re doing this whether you want to or not. Trust me, it’ll help you with your relationship and not just your one with Sanji. I’m talking everyone, including me.”

“I’m getting a murderous intent vibe coming from you,” Zoro said, backing his chair away from the table slightly.

“Body language,” Nami said. “How can you tell I want to kill you?”

“I’ve got a better question,” Zoro said. “How come you’re not denying your urge to slaughter?”

“Slaughter is such an ugly word,” Nami said. Her attempt to look innocent by batting her eyelashes didn’t do shit to Zoro. “I prefer … domesticate.”

“You _domesticate_ people? How many skeletons are in your closet?”

“In five seconds there’ll be one more in there than there was before,” Nami said, glaring at him. “Don’t test me. Now, how can you tell I want to kill you?”

“Are we really doing this?”

“I’m trying to save your sex life, so yes, we’re doing this. We all know you could afford to get laid.”

Zoro sighed. He wasn’t going to get out of this, so he may as well play along. “Um, your eyes are staring at me really creepily, kind of like you’re imagining stabbing me with a knife—”

“Pitchfork, but close enough.”

“Does Luffy know he’s involved with a murderer?”

“Focus!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro examined Nami. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her glare was unsettling. Her mouth was set in a firm line that was probably holding back curse words and wishing he had never been born. “You’re just … very hostile right now.”

“That’s clear. Okay, think about Sanji this morning. How was he acting?”

“How am I supposed to know? He never cooks facing me.”

“How did he _sound_?” Nami pressed.

“He …” Zoro scratched his head, trying to remember this morning. He wasn’t one of those characters from crime dramas who remembered everything when questioned by the police. “I asked him about Valentine’s Day. Since we’re in a relationship, I figured I could tell him I wasn’t that big of a fan of it. He sounded a bit quieter, now that I think about it. Almost … timid.” He shook his head. “But Sanji isn’t shy. Most of the time. And what reason would he have to be shy around me?”

“Maybe because you voiced your hatred for Valentine’s Day?”

“Besides that.” Zoro thought back to the conversation. “I told him about those girls in high school confessing to me—”

“Zoro, have you no shame?!”

Zoro blinked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Did you do something wrong?” Nami repeated. “Of course you did, you inconsiderate imbecile!” She shook her head. “It’s like an unwritten rule between two people in a relationship, you don’t ever mention old flames.”

“But I never dated any of them—”

“Never. _Ever_ ,” Nami repeated. “What would you think if Sanji spoke to you about other people he had dated?”

“But he’s never been in a relationship before.”

Nami huffed. “Not all people are as fortunate as you, you know!” Nami sighed. “Anyway, what did he say?”

“Uh, we spoke a bit about Valentine’s Day confessions, and then I told him he was avoiding my question. He told me it wasn’t important.”

“What, did you just leave it at that?”

“No,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not _that_ shit with people. I wanted to know his opinion, so I asked him again. Pressed him a bit. Eventually, he said he didn’t mind if we didn’t celebrate.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You know, when you tell me that every day, it starts to lose meaning.” He shook his head. “What’s the big deal? He said it himself that he didn’t mind.”

“That means he minds!”

“I thought only girls were supposed to be this cryptic.”

“Do you know how sexist you sounded?”

Zoro’s fist clenched. He wasn’t sexist, Nami of all people knew it. He sighed. “Do I seriously need some kind of dictionary to understand my boyfriend?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got about a week till Valentine’s Day, I can figure something out.”

* * *

February 7th, 7 Days till Valentine’s

* * *

Zoro could figure something out.

What did people like on Valentine’s Day?

There were the confessions, and the hearts and ribbons and the huggable bears and keychains with their names on them. The internet recommended edible underwear, but considering this was _Sanji_ and Zoro wasn’t even sure how much of his guts it took Sanji to give him his “gift”, that was useless.

The obvious choice was to get chocolate. He heard somewhere that Belgium chocolate, or Swiss chocolate was the best. Or at least, finer made. Which was why he was standing outside a candy store armed with yen in his wallet and determination.

He walked into the store and the bells above the door rang out. The sweet smells hit him, as did a wave of nausea. It made him cringe as he walked to a display of chocolate. There was too much, too much sugar, too many possible cavities, too many fucking hearts everywhere.

“What are you looking for?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Zoro swore that the tall giant of a man was following him. Though he was wearing a new uniform, he could recognize him and his innocent gaze anywhere.

The man just gave him a smile.

“How many fucking jobs do you have?”

“Six, last time I checked.”

_Last time I checked? Why the fuck are you smiling so much if you’re working yourself so hard? Where the fuck are your parents? And if you really are that man that Sanji met while going flower picking, why is a kid your age with so many jobs involved with an older lover? A_ **_male_ ** _lover on top of it all?_

Zoro shook his head. “I don’t need help.”

“Do you know anything about chocolate?”

“Do _you_ know anything about chocolate?”

“I got Employee of the Month a while ago,” said the man. He wasn’t even bragging.

“Of course you did.”

He ignored Zoro’s quip. “So I think I do.”

_Damn you for having a face that makes me feel bad about wanting to strangle you._

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms over his green windbreaker. “What do you recommend?”

“Is this for the same person who you wanted to get the knives for?”

Zoro glared at him. “Is it any of your fucking business? Did he tell you his fucking preferences in chocolates while you were giving him lectures about love?”

The man grinned. “So it _is_ the same man.”

Zoro’s forehead throbbed. “You know what’s fucked up? I know so much about you, including your height, the number of jobs you have, I even know about your gay sex life with your older partner, and yet your name escapes me.”

The man blinked. “I know a lot about you too. You’re in a relationship with the blond man, you have a short temper and a bad sense of direction, remind people of thistles, and your lover is a cook.”

“W-we’re not l-lovers.”

Goddammit, why’d he have to stutter?

“And the two of you react the same to that statement,” the man said with a grin. “I believe the blond’s name is Sanji, correct? And yours is Zoro?”

Zoro gritted his teeth. “Now you’re really pissing me off, Giant.”

The man frowned. “That wasn’t my intention,” he said. “I’m Nowaki.”

_Who the fuck names their kid “typhoon”?_

Zoro shook his head. “Look, are you going to help me or not?”

“What kind of chocolate do you like?” asked Nowaki the giant. It felt good to put a name to the face. That way he had a name he could give the police when he reported him for stalking and requested a restraining order.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Zoro said, staring at the various chocolate brands with a frown on his face. “Hence my dilemma.”

“What kind of chocolate does your lover like?”

“Can you stop calling him that?”

“You’re turning a tad pink,” said Nowaki with a big grin on his face.

“Am not.” Zoro crossed his arms much like a child. “And I don’t know,” he admitted. “Since … since I don’t like sweet things there isn’t any chocolate in the shit-apartment.”

Nowaki nodded understandingly. It pissed Zoro off.“ _Belvus_ is a Belgium chocolate brand, a very good one too. It is a bit expensive though …”

“Aren’t you supposed to make me want to buy it anyway, regardless of price?”

“Why would I lie to a customer?”

“Never mind, I’ll take it.”

It was once it was ringed up at the register that Zoro realized what Nowaki meant by “a bit expensive”.

_Holy fuck, that’s a lot of zeroes!_

He bought it anyway.

His logic was as follows:

_I’m already in front of the cashier, I’ve already waited in line. Plus that really annoying yet really innocent typhoon just spent the past five minutes talking to me._

The second he was out of the store, he realized how stupid all this was.

He didn’t return the chocolate though, nor did he throw it out.

* * *

February 8th, 6 Days till Valentine’s

* * *

Okay, so chocolate wouldn’t work. He wasn’t a complete idiot though, he knew he couldn't just do _nothing_. Because Sanji wasn’t expecting anything, that meant that Zoro had a chance to really surprise him. He had gone through hell trying to figure out what to get the blond for Christmas, why the hell did he have to think so hard about thinking of something for Valentine’s Day too? Why were they so fucking close to each other on the calendar? Better yet, why couldn’t Sanji just be one of those pessimists who saw Valentine’s Day as Singles Awareness Day?

He could buy the cook some anime. Yeah, that could work. But he’d look like an idiot walking into that store. Did he dare to?

_Fuck it, I’ve got almost no other ideas._

If he couldn’t find something, it was easy, he just needed to go in and go out. No reason to be stuck in a conversation. Surely, the tall giant of a man couldn’t work at every shop in Tokyo, right?

He walked in and looked around, half-expecting to see him there. He didn’t see him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he kind of missed him. Just a little. He squashed the thought quickly.

The store had shelves of manga and racks of anime.

What did Sanji like? Did Zoro not know his boyfriend enough to know the crappy cartoons he watched? What if he got him something he didn’t like? Or something he had already seen?

Zoro wasn’t a Valentine’s Day genius, but he was pretty sure anime was a pretty piss-poor present.

_Not if you’re an otaku like Sanji._

_He’d probably object to being called an otaku._

_Don’t all otakus?_

He read some of the titles.

 ** _Gravitation_**. The art was overly-cutesy in his opinion, but the back made it seem like a music anime, which was pretty cool, but— _Is this gay_ ** _hentai_** _?!_

Immediately, he slammed the DVD case back onto the shelf. He was pretty sure he was scarred for life.

 _Hmm, there’s_ ** _Special A_** _?_ Zoro frowned, reading the plot. _So is this … what they call_ ** _shōjo_** _?_

**_Sensitive Pornography_ ** _— holy fuck, they have the word pornography in the title? Fuck no!_

**_Kaichou-wa Maid-Sama_ ** _? Oh, it's just more_ **_shōujo_ ** _._

**_Black Butler._ ** _There’s a demon in here?! Cool! Wait, uh, why does it look like he’s trying to fuck that little boy? Oh God, is this that_ **_shotacon_ ** _thing? Fuck, is he a gay pedophile who rapes young boys? He really_ **_is_ ** _a demon!_

**_Love Stage!!_** _Why the fuck are there two exclamation marks? I already get it, you’re excited._ Zoro tilted his head as he stared at the cover. _Is that … a boy or a girl?_ He squinted, not entirely sure of the blond’s gender. _Why does that dark haired guy remind me a bit of a rapist? Next._

 _“Ouran High School Host—”_ Zoro shook his head. Nope, not getting involved with host clubs. In fact, the cover just seemed to scream _gay_ and he didn’t like the way the twins were holding each other. “Does anime encourage incest?”

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around sharply, his mouth falling open.

There was a god standing before him. He was certain of it.

He was tall, at least as tall as that typhoon guy, and had hair and eyes that just seemed to sparkle with flowers and all that stupid shit that Zoro was pretty sure came with the make up of being the male protagonist of _shōjo_. His breath caught in his throat and even if he hadn’t been gay or interested in guys in the slightest, he probably would’ve fallen head first for this guy. Of course, Zoro could never let his gruff exterior fade so almost immediately, he snapped at him. “The fuck are you?”

“I’m an employee here. Do you want some help? I can recommend some anime, I read a lot of manga.”

“You and Sanji,” Zoro muttered under his breath.

“Sorry?”

It was strange to hear someone say “sorry” instead of “pardon”. By the man’s dazzling light hair and eyes, Zoro was willing to forgive him for his lack of using the proper word.

“Never mind,” Zoro muttered to himself. “You said you could help me?”

“Have you ever tried _Girl’s Master_?”

Zoro gave him a strange look.

“See, the story’s pretty standard and all, but the latest volume just came out and—”

“Um, my friend likes things like _Fullmetal Bi_ — _Alchemist_ ,” Zoro corrected himself. _Are all men’s lashes that long?_

“I see, I think you have a slight problem then. This is the _shōjo_ section, the _shōnen_ section is over there,” he gestured towards a giant display of books and anime stacked high on even more shelves.

“Um, excuse me, but how many floors does this store have?”

“Eight,” the man replied.

“I see …”

_RING! RING! RING!_

Zoro took his phone out and checked caller ID. “Sanji?” It was good to know his boyfriend actually bothered with his phone.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“I’m …” Zoro paused. He looked at the god of a man. “Um, excuse me but … this is kind of strange but … where am I?”

“Marimo Books,” the sparkly _shōjo_ manga department employee replied with a smile.

_That smile has to be illegal._

“Marimo Books— hey, wait,” but it was too late, Sanji was already laughing.

“Seriously? What are you doing over there? You don’t even like manga!”

Zoro glanced at the employee, trying his hardest not to blush. “You’re talking really loudly,” he said, “And the employees are starting to stare at me.”

“Look, why aren’t you home?”

“I’m busy right now—”

“In a book store.”

“They sell anime,” Zoro defended himself.

“You want more _Pokémon_?”

“Shut up!” The tips of Zoro’s ears were turning pink.

“Whatever, just get back here when you can, Luffy wants us to go over to their house for dinner.”

Zoro sighed. “Yeah yeah, whatever Curly Brow.”

There was a soft laugh. “Bye Marimo.”

“Bye.”

He closed his phone and turned to the man who was staring at him strangely. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “I just didn’t know there were so many gay men in Tokyo …”

“WHAT?!”

Zoro was fuming red, his fists curling at his side. He was in a fucking book store with several shelves of anime, speaking to an employee in charge of the _shōjo_ section, who was now accusing him of being gay. Well, he _was_ gay. Sort of. But that didn’t mean he was okay with him just saying it so casually!

“Well, I suppose I just never noticed before,” the man seemed to be speaking to himself. “Once I’ve met one though, it seems they’re everywhere …”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Oh no!” the man said with a bright smile. “It’s nothing like that at all. In fact, my lover’s a man.”

**_You’re_ ** _seeing gay people everywhere? No,_ **_I’m_ ** _seeing gay people everywhere! And what the fuck is it with everyone calling other “lovers”?_

The man looked over Zoro’s shoulder and his smile brightened about a thousand times over. He started waving like a maniac. Zoro turned to see who he was gesturing to, only to see a small man who looked to be eighteen at oldest.

_Fuck, are pedophiles everywhere too? Is there a name for that? They call women cougars, what about men? Do we just call them creepers or rapists?_

Zoro shoved his hands in his pockets, giving up on the idea.

Fuck this, Sanji could get his own anime if he loved it so desperately. Zoro couldn’t stand to be in that store for a minute longer.

It wasn’t until he had left and stared up at the giant neon green sign that he wondered how come he hadn’t thought twice about entering a book store with the name “Marimo”.

* * *

February 9th, 5 Days till Valentine’s

* * *

It was okay. It was fine. Zoro could just buy Sanji a card. Yeah, he could do that. There was nothing wrong with doing it.

So why did all the cards seem stupid to him?

_Happy Valentine’s Day, thinking of you!_

Zoro wanted to puke at the pre-written words of the cards. They were so big and red and pink and just so … _heart-sy_ that Zoro couldn’t stomach it. He sighed and opened a new card.

_Roses are red, violets are blue_

_I don’t need it to be Valentine’s Day_

_To tell you I love you!_

The fucking card was singing. _Singing._ And it wasn’t good singing either, just some shitty melodious song that made Zoro want to bash his head against the wall repeatedly until it stopped.

This had to be illegal, who the fuck bought a singing card? But judging by the lone card that was left, many people did. Yeah sure, he’d buy a stinking singing card. If only to give Sanji a heart attack when he opened it unsuspectingly.

“Zoro?”

“WHAT?!”

The moment the swordsman turned around, he was met with the cook staring at him strangely.

_Oh, it’s just Sanji— wait, why the fuck is Sanji here?_

Zoro swore under his breath. “Hey, Cook.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are _you_ here?”

And thus began the stare down.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Sanji said. “It’s creepy.”

“I can look at you however the fuck I want,” Zoro snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. “Never mind, this isn’t going anywhere. If I won’t tell you why I’m here and you won’t tell me why you’re here, we may as well move on from that and focus on something else.”

“You said you hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah? Your point?”

“Why are you in a card shop, in front of the Valentine’s Day display?” Sanji asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. There was a hopeful light behind his eyes. Fuck, how had he not noticed it before? He hated to admit it, but Nami was right. Zoro really _did_ suck at reading body language.

“No reason.” He couldn’t take back what he said a few days ago, that’d be lying, but he couldn’t say he was here to buy Sanji a card. Especially since he thought the cards were the stupidest things on Earth. Sanji deserved better than pre-written words that came from some cheesy Shakespeare book.

_Wait, Sanji likes Shakespeare, right?_

“You’ve been acting weird lately. I just wondered if you knew.”

“Have I?”

In his frenzied attempt to remedy his mistake of telling Sanji about his hatred of Valentine’s day, he was bound to act weird. Hell, he had walked into a book store! _A fucking book store!_ Zoro didn’t do subtlety, so it there was no doubt Sanji would notice when something was up.

“I didn’t notice.”

Sanji shook his head, the look he was giving Zoro fading away with the action. “Never mind. Wanna go to the cafeteria? I’ll let you hold my hand so you don’t get lost.”

“Fuck you,” Zoro muttered but he grabbed Sanji’s hand anyway and let the blush fill up his cheeks, noticing that Sanji was also matching the big red heart in one of the store’s windows.

* * *

February 10th, 4 Days till Valentine’s

* * *

Why was the week going by so quickly?

_Seven days should never pass this fast._

When Zoro thought there had been plenty of time, three days had already passed and he was nowhere near close enough to figuring out what Sanji would want to do for Valentine’s.

He flipped through his contacts. Who could he cal?

Nami was a no-go, she’d scream at him for having not figured something out yet.

Usopp? Nah.

Maybe he could try … Luffy?

The second he pressed call, he regretted it.

Luffy answered after two rings.

“Hey Zoro, what’s up? Got trouble with Valentine’s Day?”

“Sort of …”He didn’t have the time to explain his fuck-up to Luffy. “What are you and Nami doing for Valentine’s?”

“We’re going out to eat.”

“Where to?” asked Zoro, surprised that Luffy was doing something so … _normal_.

“This high-class place, I finally have enough money to go to. It’s … dammit, what’s it called? Something with an Artie thing in it. I think. There’s a B in it too, sounds really elegant and that sort of thing.”

Zoro’s eyes widened. “Luffy, you wouldn’t be taking Nami to the Baratie, would you?”

He heard Luffy snap his fingers. “Yeah! That’s it!”

“No Luffy, you can’t do that.”

“Why?” Luffy asked. “I mean, you went there all the time, right?”

“You can’t go Luffy,” Zoro repeated. “Trust me.”

“But why?” He could practically see the man’s slightly confused frown. “Is it cause of the money? Cause I think I can handle it Zoro.”

“Luffy, it’s not about the money, it’s about the people!”

“Yeah they’re really rich and famous,” Luffy said. “I think I might have to leave my hat with Ace for the night …”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about Luffy!” Zoro sighed. He really didn't have patience for the straw hat. It was a miracle he hadn’t strangled him yet. “Look, I’m your friend right? You have to trust me when I tell you that you shouldn’t go to the Baratie. Don’t.”

“Okaaaaay,” said Luffy slowly. “But why?”

“Can’t you just trust my judgement?”

“‘M just curious.”

“For … personal reasons,” Zoro decided. Sanji could be considered a personal reason, right? He _was_ Zoro’s personal boyfriend after all.

“Okay,” said Luffy. “But what am I supposed to do with all my money now?”

“There’s a good steak house somewhere in Tokyo, I know it,” Zoro said. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “So don't go to the Baratie, there are tons of other places.”

“Okay. But, Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“You really need to think of something for Sanji.”

Zoro sighed. “Like I didn’t already fucking know. Talk to you later, Luffy.”

“Bye Zoro.”

In the past four months or so, all he had been doing was eating either food from the Baratie, the occasional take-out and of course, Sanji’s food. Where was a good place to take the blond?

He had an idea.

Immediately, he dialled and waited.

“Hello, this is the Orbit. Would you like to make a reservation?”

“Yes,” Zoro said. “For two on February 14th.” 

The rapid scribbling on the other end of the line paused. “February 14th?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry sir, but that day is currently full, it _is_ Valentine’s Day, you know.”

“Of course I fucking know that,” Zoro snapped. “Why else do you think I’m reserving?”

“I do believe most people make their dates a bit earlier than a few days in advance, especially on special occasions like Valentine’s Day.”

“Are you telling me I’m scatter-brained?”

“A bit, yes, sir,” said the man on the phone. “My apologies, but unless there’s a more specific reason for you to require a seating in our restaurant, I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do. You’re not someone in great authority, are you?”

“No,” Zoro said, hating the man on the phone more with every word he spoke.

“Then I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we can accommodate you—”

“But,” Zoro cut in, closing his eyes tightly. He hated throwing his name around, it didn’t work for things that were a great big deal, but on the occasion, for small, trivial things like dinner reservations, it was enough. “I _am_ Roronoa Zoro.”

Almost immediately, the man’s entire demeanour changed. “Oh! Mr. Roronoa! Look at that, we just got an opening!”

“I thought so.”

* * *

February 11th, 3 Days till Valentine’s

* * *

 

Poetry was stupid.

Shakespeare was also stupid, as was Charles Dickens and anime in Zoro’s humble opinion.

_Why does Sanji like stupid things?_

Zoro could admit that Shakespeare was a little bit of a genius to write in iambic pentameter and use speech patterns to define social class, but was it so fucking hard to write like a normal person? Why’d he have to use all those “thee”s and “thy”s and “thou”s?

Similes and metaphors and hyperboles seemed easy, in theory, but trying to get his thoughts onto the paper was impossible. It wasn't so much that he didn’t know _what_ to write. He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out how to string it all together properly. Words were failing him. Every sentence he strung together felt wrong, like it should be grander, and he couldn’t make the words flow together properly. They’d sound too cheesy, or too stupid, or both.

Maybe if he just used the stupid card as an outline?

_Roses are red, violets are blue—_

_Wait, what the fuck? That’s wrong._

Zoro shook his head. Well, not that wasn’t totally wrong but …. Somehow, Zoro ended up with a paper with his messy scrawl reading:

_“Roses are red, violets are blue”,_

_That’s what they say but it just isn’t true,_

_Because roses are red and apples are too._

_But violets are violet._

_Violets aren’t blue._

_An orange’s orange, but Greenland’s not green and a pinky’s not pink._

_So what does it mean?_

_To call something blue when it’s not is to defile it, but_

_Ah heck, it’s hard to rhyme “violet”._

The longer he stared at the piece of paper, the more he found he was a fucking idiot.

He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the waste bin just when the door to the apartment opened. Sanji came walking in, lighting up a cigarette with the lighter _Zoro_ had gotten him. The swordsman felt a swell of pride at that.

“You should recycle you know,” said Sanji, eyeing the trashcan. “It saves trees and that shit. Do you hate breathing?”

“Do _you_ hate breathing?”

“I thought we were going to stop repeating each other,” Sanji said, giving him a pointed look.

“But _do_ you hate breathing?”

“What are you talking about?” Sanji asked, pulling the paper out of the waste bin.

“Well, I mean you’re contaminating your lungs. You’re going to die young of cancer.”

“Good, then I won’t have to complain about my back and I’ll look beautiful going into my coffin.”

Though he said it, Zoro knew Sanji didn’t believe it. He didn’t know what it was going to take, but he was willing to do anything to get Sanji to believe him and see the beauty he saw in the blond.

“What the fuck is this?”

Zoro looked up at the paper Sanji was pointing at.

“Wait, don’t read that!” Zoro screamed, jumping out of his seat at the kitchen table, trying to grab onto Sanji’s arm to get it away from him.

“ _Roses are red, violets are blue,_ huh?” Sanji read. “What, a love poem?”

“Just give it back!”

“I think I’d like to read what kind of poetry a Marimo can write.” With that, Sanji proceeded to read Zoro’s horribly written poem.

He watched as different emotions flickered across his face, from confusion to understanding to amused. “You don’t have to be so literal, you know.”

“Yes, wonderful sensei, now will you just let me throw it out?” he asked. “It’s useless—”

“I think I’m going to pin it up on the fridge,” Sanji declared. Using a chair, Sanji put the poem on the highest point of the fridge, where neither man could reach it without aid.

“There.”

“I’m not in grade school,” Zoro said through gritted teeth.

“Of course not, other wise I’d be framing your first D —,” Sanji replied with a grin, ruffling Zoro’s hair. “Don’t be so uptight Marimo. C’mon, I’ll make dinner.”

“She would’ve loved you …”

“Did you say something?”

“NOTHING!”

Sanji chuckled. “You’re such a weirdo.”

_She really would’ve loved you to pieces. With your “pardon” and your cooking and your chivalry. She’d have beat the crap out of you until you started fighting back._

“You’re looking at me weirdly.”

“Just thinking.”

“Stop it, it’s getting weird.”

With a grin, he proceeded to tease Sanji throughout the process of making his supper.

* * *

 

February 12th, 2 Days till Valentine’s

* * *

 

Zoro hated ties.

He hated ties, suits, dress pants, dress shoes, bowties, blazers (unless they were Sanji’s), and he really, _really_ hated tailors.

Zoro hadn’t worn a tie since his graduation and even then, he had been playing with it so much that it had come undone by the time he had gotten his diploma. He wondered what Sanji would’ve thought of him, a green haired kid in the back of the class, unable to pass math class but could pull the best marks in the grade when it came to gym and samurai history.

It didn’t help that he was ticklish either.

“Stop moving!” the tailor told him with a firm glare. “Or I’ll stab you with the needle!”

Zoro tried to stand still, but of course, he couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault that the feeling of the tailor’s hands on his sides simulated a tickling sensation. It was better to think he was being tickled rather than molested.

“Why’s the seam green?” he asked, looking down at the tailor as the man fixed the hemming.

“Because it suits you better.”

“But I like blue.”He didn’t sound like a whiny kid. Shut up.

“And I like money,” the tailor huffed. “You wouldn’t look good in blue. We have a green tie for you as well, otherwise you’ll be wearing black.”

“Why does this shirt feel so weird?”

The man sighed and stood up. “Why are you wearing this?”

Zoro looked up from a piece of lint on his shirt. “Huh?”

“You don’t seem like the type to go to formal places, so what is it? A wedding? A graduation ceremony?”

“Just … a date,” he said softly.

It would be their first official date and Zoro was beyond anxious about it.

_Way to fucking go, idiot, you planned your first date ever, and it’s on Valentine’s Day. Now you_ **_really_ ** _can’t fuck it up._

“Well then, stop being so fidgety and you can surprise her with how well you clean up,” the man said. “You have the face and the body to be rather attractive, you’re not trying.”

Zoro gave him a strange look. “Are you coming onto me?”

“Do you want me to?”

The rest of the fitting Zoro was as rigid as a board, trying not to move at all and he yelled whenever the tailor’s perv-y hands went anywhere lower than his waist.

Sanji better be damn grateful.

“Hey! Don’t touch me there!”

* * *

February 13th, 1 Day till Valentine’s

* * *

 

Zoro wanted out.

He was going to die, he knew it.

* * *

February 14th, Valentine’s

* * *

Zoro felt sick. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d be able to go through with this.

All the same, he gave Sanji a smile and swallowed his pride and just about everything else that could possibly be contained in his body because otherwise, how else was he supposed explain his urge to puke?

“So uh, you see … I wanted to um … I uh, got this place that we could er … go for the night and uh, y-yeah cause I … I figured you don’t want to cook on Valentine’s Day, right?”

Sanji gave him a strange look. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Orbit,” Zoro forced the word out.

“When’s the reservation for?”

“Um, about … half an hour?” Zoro said, checking his watch. It was also at this moment that he realized that he needed to change. He had not spent four hours trying to avoid being groped by some perverted tailor to not wear the damn suit. “Get your blazer and wear something nice, it’s a fancy place.”

With that, he headed towards his room.

“You sure you can afford it?” yelled Sanji, down the hallway.

“It’s on me!” Zoro said, slamming his door closed.

He hated ties. He _really_ did.

Putting on the nice fancy pants was easy, as was the blazer and doing up that annoying button that was nearly suffocating him was difficult, but he still managed.

_Fucking cooperate, damn tie!_

“Sanji?”

“Yeah?” came his voice.

“Could you … ah, could you help me with something?”

Sanji entered Zoro’s room, instinctively turning his back to the large full-length mirror. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to get dre—” Sanji cut himself off with a low whistle. “What’s with the get-up?”

“Just help me with the fucking stupid tie,” Zoro snapped, holding out his tie.

Sanji rolled his eyes and took the offered tie. “Watch me do this Marimo, cause it’s not that hard.” Zoro watched, sure. He watched the way Sanji’s eyes were completely focused on his hands, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. “And then you just pull it through here.” There was a tug and Zoro stumbled forward slightly.

Sanji put his hands on Zoro’s chest, pushing him away lightly. “There you go,” he said. He was looking at the ceiling. If he looked behind him, the mirror would be there.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Zeff.” He sent Zoro a glare, a blush on his cheeks. “Now I feel under-dressed.”

“It’s fine,” Zoro insisted. “Come on, we should get going. I’ll even use your present to get there.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “If you really wanted to impress me, you’d get there without the help of Siri.”

“Tough shit, Siri’s coming with us,” Zoro said, pulling Sanji by his sleeve. “Now get into the car, Love Cook.”

* * *

 

The place was too fancy. True, the Baratie was sickening and made Zoro’s stomach churn but the politeness of this place made him want to gag as well. Sanji fit in so perfectly here. Zoro on the other hand, felt like choking himself with his tie, though it wasn’t like it wasn’t doing that on its own.

“Any reason why we’re here?” asked Sanji. “I thought we were just going to stay in and watch that Valentine’s Day special of that stupid soap opera you like watching.”

“Why do they call it a soap opera anyway?”

“Because they’re so dramatic and over-the-top that you want to scrub your eyes out with soap when the fucking episode that feels like a movie is over,” Sanji said. “And stop distracting me.” Picking up the menu his eyes widened. “Holy fuck, Zoro this place is expensive!”

“You know the Baratie charged me roughly this much, right?”

“ _We_ have good food, _they_ might be poisoning us.” Zoro wondered whether or not the blond realized that he still considered himself part of the Baratie, despite not stepping foot in there in over two months. “And when did you get a suit?”

“Um …” _It’d be weird if I said it was like, two days ago, right?_

“Never mind,” Sanji said, waving his hand as though he could brush the matter off and let it fly away in the wind. “The service here is terrible.”

 _What the fuck was I thinking? Sanji worked in a restaurant, a really high-class one. This is like going wine testing with some snobbish woman who lathers on too much lipstick._ _Something tells me he’s going to critique everything …_

“Zoro?” Sanji’s voice was quiet as he ran his finger over the rim of his glass. “Is … do you not like my cooking?”

“WHAT?!”

Everyone stared at him. Zoro didn’t bother lowering his head in shame, he had gotten over it at this point. “How the fuck could you think that?”

“Well I mean …” Sanji turned his head away from Zoro and fiddled with the buttons of his blazer. “We’re at a fancy restaurant. We’ve never done this before and I mean, if you wanted to eat something nice, you could’ve just asked me. You didn’t have to get yourself all dressed up and …” Sanji shook his head. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

_Was that … a wheeze?_

Zoro was just about to ask him about it when Sanji called over a waiter. He ordered his meal like the gentleman he was and Zoro was tongue-tied, trying to remember how to pronounce common words like, “please” and “thank-you”. He was _so_ out of his league here.

“Are you okay?” Sanji asked Zoro when the waiter left.

“What do you mean am I okay?” Zoro squeaked. “I’m fine.”

“You just look … uncomfortable,” Sanji said. “We can go if you want.”

“No, I’m good,” Zoro replied. “I’m fine. Just … a little bit tense.”

_Try freaking out!_

Sanji complained about the service thoroughly, and when their meals came, he sent his back to be reheated.

Zoro was fidgeting with his collar. Why were there so many buttons and why did the one at the very top have to be done up? He was pretty sure he was choking from the collar, if not the tie. The sweat dripped down his forehead. Would it be rude to undo his tie (not that he knew how to do that) and unbutton maybe two or three or all of the buttons on his shirt? He felt like he was suffocating.

“Zoro—” Sanji turned in his direction at that moment. He put down his glass and leaned across the table, loosening Zoro’s tie and undoing the top button. He could breathe! It was a miracle! Sanji paused for a moment before pulling the tie off entirely and popping the next two buttons as well. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Zoro said, trying to catch his breath.

“Don’t force yourself to be here if you really feel uncomfortable,” Sanji told him. “I don’t mind.”

“No, we’re staying,” Zoro said firmly. “At least until we’ve both eaten.”

Sanji nodded, but his brow was furrowed, probably trying to figure it out.

Zoro waited until Sanji’s plate came back before he ate.

“You didn’t have to wait,” Sanji told him. “Your meal’s probably a bit cold now.”

“It’s fine,” Zoro told him with a shrug. “I don’t mind. Besides, eating on my own at a table across from you just means you can hear the chewing sounds I make and it’s kind of gross.”

The fuck was he saying?

Sanji let out a laugh. It was soft but it wasn’t mocking or patronizing. “Oh yeah?” he asked. He took his fork and put it in Zoro’s food, stealing some. Taking a bite, he frowned. “This is practically frozen. I’ll ask to send it back—”

“No!”

Sanji froze. He had been about to pick up Zoro’s plate, probably planning on heading into the kitchen itself and demand they be treated better, but Zoro grabbed his arm and stopped him. “It’s fine,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Do you want to tell me why we’re here?” Sanji asked. “Because you’re really starting to worry me.”

How did he put this? He couldn’t just babble everything out, could he?

“Well, see, remember when I asked you what you thought about Valentine’s Day? And then I told you I hated it and then you said we wouldn’t be celebrating so then I was like, okay, cool, and then I told Nami about it and she slapped me and lectured me on body language and how you’re such a fucking romantic, which means that you _love_ Valentine’s Day and were lying through your teeth, so then she told me I had to fix it. I’m super offended you didn't just fucking tell me, cause I was honest with you and then you just went and lied to my face? Who does that?

“So anyway, I went to this chocolate store, right? Do you remember that guy from the flower shop? I think he’s a stalker, I swear, cause he was there and he gave me Belgium chocolate cause he said it was good and apparently his name’s Typhoon, which is really weird— well no, it’s not Typhoon, it’s Nowaki, but it’s the same thing, right? Anyway, then I thought that was stupid so I didn’t give them to you but I have them in the back of the car if you do want them, but I think they’re totally melted by now …

“Then I wanted to get you manga or anime or whatever the shit they call it, and how was I supposed to know I was in the _shōjo_ section? They should really have signs for that! And that stuff’s aimed towards girls? What kind of fucked up shit is that, perverted demons and alien stalkers from planet Pheromone? Even the employee who worked there had to be a pedophile, I think he’s dating someone like, at least six years younger then him! I’m sure that short guy was a minor!

“And so then I thought hey, why not get you a card? Except those cards are crappy and they fucking sing— Sanji, who the fuck would buy a _singing card_? And then you were there and I don’t know _why_ you were there, but you were and so then I ditched that idea.

“So then I called Luffy cause I had no fucking clue what to do so I asked him what he was doing with Nami— don’t look at me like that, I know you’re not a girl! And he said he was taking her to a fancy restaurant so I was like, okay, sure so then I had to call up the Orbit and toss my name around.

“I tried poetry after that cause you like Shakespeare and that shit, but then, well, it turned out like _that_ and you saw it and it was horrible and I swear in the middle of the night I’m ripping it off the fridge, but anyway, it wasn’t till _after_ the shitty poetry that I learnt they had a fancy dress code or something so this perverted tailor ended up feeling me up to get my size and stuff and dear God, I swear, is everyone gay?

“And I know I’m ranting and this is incredibly weird and all, but I’m paying the bill and couldn’t you be grateful that I took you here, you bastard? I mean, I’m going to be totally broke when this is over and what do you do? You’re like the pickiest eater in the entire fucking world! It's not my fault that I screwed up— okay, it is, but I just wanted to do something for you even if Valentine’s Day is bullshit and now we’re going to get kicked out of the fucking restaurant because I can’t fucking breathe!”

Zoro took several deep breaths, trying to catch it back. He gulped, his throat dry. He tossed his head back and drank his glass dry, droplets of water slipping past and dampening his shirt, sending a pleasant chill through his body. He grabbed Sanji’s water, and dumped it over his head, shaking like a wet dog. Once both glasses were dry, he dug the ice cubes from the bottom of his glass and began to crush them with his teeth.

“I fucking swear, if I develop a habit of eating ice every time I need a fucking drink, so help me God, I’d rather take the sake.”

It was once the last ice cube made its way down his throat and he shivered that he realized Sanji was dead silent.

He felt like curling into his own body, keeping quiet and not saying a word.

This was totally awkward, totally not healthy and he felt totally bad about the whole thing. He gnawed at his bottom lip before pushing out his chair, and putting on his jacket.

“I’ll get the car,” he muttered, shoving the tie into his pocket.

Still, Sanji said nothing and the panic in Zoro’s chest finally fell to complete and utter embarrassment. What the hell was he doing? He should’ve just left the whole fucking Valentine’s Day thing alone but _noooo_ , he had to press and end up in this situation. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was single come morning.

“The car’s in the other direction, Marimo,” said Sanji with a sigh as he pushed out his chair, and tucked it back in. He took out at least 100 00 yen, and slid into his coat. Tucking back in Zoro’s chair, which he had left as it was, he walked past him to the exit.

Zoro followed him, feeling a bit like a kicked puppy. Oh God, he was going to be a kicked swordsman soon, wasn’t he?

Sanji thanked the man at the reception for the meal and pardoned them (pardoned, he didn't excuse, he _pardoned_ ) for causing a disturbance.

Zoro couldn’t even enjoy the movie-like scenery as the snowflakes kissed Sanji’s cheeks.

Sanji waited at the driver’s seat and gestured at the car. “Get in.”

Zoro shivered, which had nothing to do with the snow that slipped underneath his collar. He nodded and got into the passenger seat, not even arguing about how it was _his_ car and how he should drive (it only made sense, right?).

“Look, Sanji, I’m s—”

Sanji cut Zoro off by kissing him.

With an arm wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer, and another clutched at his collar to drag him closer, he nearly choked the swordsman and swallowed his gasp with his lips.

Sanji was ruthless as he kissed him, pressing his lips harshly against Zoro’s, biting at him feverishly. Their mouths slid against each other clumsily, teeth knocking against each other, noses mashing together. The cook pulled at his hair, drawing him in so close, it was almost as if their bodies would become one. The armrest between the passenger and driver’s seat was a nuisance, and then Sanji climbed over it, straddling Zoro’s lap.

“ _Fucking idiot_ ,” he muttered against Zoro’s lips with a laugh.

He pressed the swordsman against the back-rest of the seat, one of his hands going underneath Zoro’s jacket to his dress shirt. Sanji’s cold fingers ran across the exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake while the other hand combed through Zoro’s hair, his nails digging into his scalp.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?” Zoro gasped with a choked moan.

The blond broke away, burrowing his head into Zoro’s neck. Sanji’s breath on his skin felt like fire. The mixture of the dampness of his skin and the cold outside didn’t register to him at all, all he could feel was heat and _Sanji_.

Zoro raked his fingers through Sanji’s hair, wondering what had just happened, feeling the cook’s breathless chest against his own. There was something about the way he inhaled that was off, but Zoro could barely think straight to dwell on it.

_Am I dreaming? Is this a parallel universe?_

The two had shared several kisses, but nothing like this and _never_ initiated by Sanji. It had never been so raw, so desperate and Zoro’s head was still spinning.

“Do you know,” said Sanji in a quiet voice, whispering in Zoro’s ear, “what I do on Valentine’s?”

Zoro tried not to shiver. God, he loved Sanji’s voice. “No.”

“I watch couples come into the Baratie, hand in hand. They sit down and begin to talk, about pointless things, really. They order a special and steal kisses, say sweet nothings to each other.” Sanji’s hands were running up and down Zoro’s bare skin. He felt like he’d hold his breath forever if Sanji would just keep doing that, stroking his chest, occasionally slipping even further underneath his shirt. He tried to hold in his gasps. This was important. He knew he had to listen. This was important for Sanji. “When they’re done, either the man pays, or they split the bill and leave, hand in hand. Do you know what I’m doing while they’re doing that?”

“No.”

“I’m running between the kitchen and the dining hall,” said Sanji, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I’m waiting on them, I’m making food, I’m watching. I watch as new couples are made before my eyes, as old couples celebrate, as proposals are given.” Zoro shivered as Sanji’s tone lowered even more. “Do you know what you just did for me, Zoro?”

Zoro stayed silent. This was a question he wasn’t meant to answer.

“I didn’t have to watch. I was able to _be_ watched.”

He puled away from Zoro’s ear and when their eyes met, there was so much emotion in that ocean blue eye that left him breathless and he wanted to kiss him again.

“Thank you,” Sanji said softly, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “Thank you so much.”

Zoro gently put a hand on Sanji’s cheek, pulling him closer. With the leverage of being in Zoro’s lap, Sanji was taller, but Zoro didn’t mind reaching up to kiss him. Their lips barely touched, the lightest skim. “My pleasure.”

“HEY! BASTARDS, YOU GONNA MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR?!”

Sanji jumped and scurried over back to the driver’s seat, Zoro’s heart still racing a thousand miles per second. Sanji rolled down the window and screamed several cuss words of his own back at the one who had yelled at them before he backed them out of the parking lot and headed back to the apartment.

They drove in silence for a while before Sanji spoke. “Were you really molested by a tailor?”

Zoro let out a laugh. “You have no idea how many times he went for my crotch.” He glanced over at Sanji.

“Eyes on the road, idiot.”

“You’re the one who’s driving,” Zoro said with a laugh.

There was silence.

“So, you’re really not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Sanji asked, making a turn.

“Because I got us kicked out of a restaurant and the service was horrible and I told you I hated Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re right, I should totally kick you out. Get out, walk the rest of the way.”

Zoro stared.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding. Look, maybe you did kind of go over the top and totally fucked up—”

“Gee, thanks,” Zoro muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey, I’m giving you feedback, you should be taking notes for next year.”

“I thought I couldn’t keep you around to next December, never mind February?”

Sanji’s eyes didn’t leave the road for a second. “I can be persuaded.” His voice was casual, but even in the low lighting, Zoro could see his blush. “Anyway just so you know, Belgium chocolate’s got alcohol in it, so stay away from it.

“You should be able to tell the difference between _shōjo_ and _shōnen_ manga and besides, I don’t need any anime, I’m taping my shows on your PVR—”

“Wait, are you taking up all my space?!”

“— also, don’t talk about good looking people around me, I probably won’t be in a good mood for the rest of the day. Give me the name of that tailor, I’ll make sure to kick him in the balls. Hard.

“Don’t keep chocolate in your car, it won’t do you any good and the cleaning bills will be killer, I swear, open your trunk and feel the deep regret of buying expensive Belgium shit.

“Next time you go to Zoro Books, bring me with you, I have to kick the pedophile in the balls too. Don’t look at me like that, it’s called Marimo Books, of course I’ll call it Zoro Books. I could’ve called it Idiot-Swordsman Books, so be grateful I didn’t.

“If you want a fancy meal, ask me. Don’t send me to some crappy restaurant like that.

“If we ever find that Typhoon guy again, we’re filing a restraining order, so remember his name cause he’s so insignificant to me, I’ve already forgotten it.

“And I swear if you ever freak me out as much as you did this past week, I’ll be kicking _you_ in the balls so hard, you won’t be able to pass on your weird-ass green hair genes.” Sanji took a moment to pause, looking at Zoro briefly before putting his eyes back on the road. “Lastly, you look good in a suit, but …” Sanji was blushing, Zoro knew it. “You look even better right now.”

Zoro blushed, staring down at his practically half-bare chest. “Thanks.”

“Don’t say that, that sounds conceited.” They turned another corner. “You’re lucky I like you cocky.”

It was once they got back into the apartment and Zoro lay in bed thinking about how he’d tell Sanji that he may have possibly just realized he was hopelessly in love with him that Zoro realized something.

Sanji’s birthday was coming up.


	30. Say I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Explicit sexual content (? It wasn't supposed to be one of those chapters but then it was??)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to note:  
> This story was written under the assumption Sanji was born in March, and Zoro was born in November of that year, making Sanji older (though Oda has clarified to me that this is wrong).  
> Aishiteru, because I'm a nerd, is the way I write Zoro's confession. It is an almost archaic way of saying "I love you", which holds more weight than "daisuki", which translates more accurately as "I like you" in Japanese.  
> Kare-shirt: The erotic sight of seeing a significant other wear their boyfriend's clothes  
> Ahou: a ruder form of "baka" (I don't know how many times I've used this word and maybe forgot to explain it)

****_It's as easy as 1-2-1-2-3-4  
_ _There's only    
_ _ONE thing (one)  
_ _TWO do (two)  
_ _THREE words (three)  
_ _FOUR you... (four)  
_ _(I love you) I love you  
_ _There's only    
_ _ONE way (one)  
_ _TWO say (two)  
_ _Those THREE words (three)  
_ _And that's what I'll do... (four)  
_ _(I love you) I love you_

—The Plain White Ts, _1234_

_  
As of today, I am officially dating a younger man. Bet that pisses Zoro off._

Sanji smirked, staring the ceiling of the guest bedroom.

He honestly hadn’t expected to be living with Zoro for this long. He had thought that the swordsman would take him in for perhaps two months at most and then send him on his way with a pat on the back and maybe, if he was lucky, a couple of yen. But two months had come and gone and now he was on the fifth month.

When Sanji had imagined his first serious relationship, he really hadn’t pictured this.

He hadn’t pictured days of sparring, people who wore straw hats demanding meat, gambling addicted redheads or liars who could put Pinocchio to shame. He hadn’t imagined that the first person he’d kiss would be a man, never mind a man like Zoro. He had never imagined that he would’ve left the Baratie, or that he’d stop cutting.

The most surprising thing about this entire situation to the newly turned twenty-four year old wasn’t that his lover —fuck, _boyfriend_ (that flower shop guy was rubbing off on him) was well, not a _girl_ friend. It wasn't that he was now earning money via fighting against his idiot boyfriend, or that his boyfriend had green hair. _Natural_ green hair. Perhaps these things may have worried a normal person, would make them rethink their situation, but not Sanji. No, rather, it was one thing that was nagging at him and it was about what he wanted for his birthday.

Sanji didn’t ordinarily hope for much on his birthday. Maybe a little less shoving in the kitchen, maybe a chance to sneak away and buy himself new cigarettes. The concept of even daring to _ask_ for a birthday cake was out of the daunting. He had been living without much, so he didn’t expect much. But there was _one_ thing he wanted for his birthday and it wasn’t even materialistic. No, it was something from his boyfriend.

Sanji shut his eyes tightly, his chest tightening at the thought.

_I want Zoro to tell me he loves me._

The idea was just plain unfair, he knew that. Sanji wasn’t even sure if he loved the swordsman and he wasn’t going to say something he didn’t mean, he had never been one of those guys and he liked to think he’d never be. But to hear Zoro tell him … He’d like for it to happen.

He sat up in his bed and lit a new cigarette.

 _You’re fucking spoiled, aren’t you?_ he mused to himself. _You have an amazing boyfriend who made Christmas more than just bearable and treated you out on a holiday he admitted to hating. You know he’s out of your league, don’t you?_

Sanji tried his hardest not to grit his teeth at that thought. He knew. He knew and maybe that was part of the reason why he wanted to hear his boyfriend tell him he loved him.

Zoro was like Sanji, he didn’t often say things he didn’t mean and that would mean that if he told Sanji he loved him, it would be real. It would stop the large bubble of insecurity that kept inflating each and every time he looked at him. Though that strange voice was gone, it didn’t mean he didn’t still feel self-conscious.

“Sanji?”

“Yeah?” Sanji called to Zoro. He wondered why his voice sounded so close when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”

Sanji’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

Zoro walked in and Sanji was in for quite a surprise.

Zoro stood before Sanji trying to balance a tray in his hands. The tray was filled with an assortment of things, from fruit salad to oatmeal. There was a glass of milk that seemed to be what was troubling the swordsman very much as he tried not to spill it.

“The great Roronoa Zoro, foiled by a tray.”

“Shut up,” Zoro muttered. “I had to get up really early to make this. I had to call the witch and ask for instructions.”

“You asked Nami? And what have I told you about calling her that?”

“No. First I went to the Internet because I didn’t want to talk to her and besides, no one besides you is up at this ungodly hour,” Zoro grumbled. “Um, I tried to make eggs, but uh, that didn’t go so well …” Zoro turned his head away, trying to hide the blush that was spreading across his tanned cheeks.

“So _that’s_ the strange smell …”

“Hey!”

“I’m just teasing,” Sanji assured him. “What’s the occasion?”

“It's your birthday,” said Zoro, shrugging. “So I figured …”

“Breakfast in bed?” Sanji let out a light laugh. “I know what day it is, I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Like I’d forget.”

“You forgot your own birthday.”

“I was busy with other things!”

“I suppose a broken arm will do that to you. So are you going to give me my miniature feast?”

“I can take it back and we could go out, I know I’m not good at cooking,” Zoro said, gnawing at his lip. “I think it’s kind of an insult to feed a cook as good as you food that’s crappier than some American pop music. I can just—”

“No,” Sanji said. “I want it.”

Zoro blushed.

“The only reason you’re blushing so much is because you think you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Aren’t I?”

Sanji shook his head. “Come on, eat with me.”

Zoro shakily took a seat on the edge of Sanji’s bed, placing the tray in Sanji’s lap.

“It’s stuffy in here, let me open the windows.”

The moment the cool morning breeze swept through the room, Sanji remembered to his horror he was bare chested.

“Could you get me a shirt? It’s um, kind of cold in here.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s not.”

“Zoro, please. I’m cold,” Sanji lied.

He expected Zoro to get up and go over to his closet, asking him if he wanted pinstripes or just a plain dress shirt. Instead, the bed shifted and then Sanji was watching as Zoro took off his shirt.

“W-what are you doing?!” Sanji demanded, his voice rising to a rather feminine and unmanly octave (not that he’d ever admit it).

“I’m giving you a shirt.” Zoro threw the grey shirt over to Sanji, who fumbled with it, before finally catching it.

“B-but, now you’re …”

“Shirtless, I know,” Zoro said with a grin. “It’s fine.” He took a bagel from the tray and bit into it. “I think I put too much cream cheese … Fuck, I should’ve asked how you like it, shouldn’t I have? _Idiot_ ,” he muttered to himself.

“It’s fine,” Sanji said, slipping Zoro’s shirt over his head.

The shirt was a bit big on him, but it was comfortable and smelled like Zoro. The familiar scent of steel, mint and _Zoro_ surrounded him. He took the glass of milk, hoping Zoro couldn’t see how his hands were shaking as he brought it to his lips.

Zoro turned away from him, blushing.

“What?”

“Nothing … Just … I’ve never experienced _kare-shirt_ like this before …”

Sanji gaped at him.

_He … he thinks I look good in his shirt?_

_No, Sanji, you idiot, he thinks you look_ **_erotic_ ** _in his shirt!_

And then Sanji remembered exactly what _kare-shirt_ was. “I’m not a girl!”

“Obviously,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes.

“Are you going to stare at my blazer during all of breakfast?” Sanji teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Or are we actually going to engage in normal conversation?”

Zoro let out a grunt. “Just give me a minute …”

Sanji shook his head, laughing, as he dipped his spoon into the oatmeal. It was a little watery, but otherwise it was fine. “So what are we going to do today?”

“Anything you want, I guess.”

“Are you going to look at me when you talk?”

Sanji watched in fascination as Zoro turned himself to face him at a painfully slow pace, his breathing unnatural. “There, happy?”

“Much.”

“Anyway, it’s your day, so whatever you want goes. Unlike _some_ people, I’m not going to distract them with word games all day.”

“And if I just want to play a word game all day?”

Zoro bit the inside of his cheek. “I suppose we could do that, if you want to …” His eyes dropped from Sanji’s to the tray. “How’s the food?”

“Not bad,” Sanji said with a shrug.

“There’s no need to be nice. I know I’m not good at this.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you have me, isn’t it?” he teased. “Come on Marimo, I’m not going to bite. You can come closer.”

Zoro shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Get your fucking ass next to me now or else I’m throwing this oatmeal at you.”

The bed rocked as Zoro quickly maneuvered himself so that the lay next to Sanji, his feet hanging off the side of the bed. He put his arms behind his head in an attempt to get more comfortable, but with how small the bed was, there wasn’t much room.

Sanji laughed. “Don’t you dare spill my oatmeal, an idiot worked really hard to make it for me.”

“Shut up, if it spills, it was your idea, so you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“We kinda look like a married couple, don’t we?” Sanji asked. “Like a husband treating his wife on Mother’s Day or something.”

“Are you saying we’d have kids?” Zoro asked. “I didn’t know I worked so fast.”

Sanji nudged him playfully with his shoulder when he paused. “I just referred myself as a woman, didn’t I?”

“I was wondering when you’d notice.”

_THUD!_

“Shit!”

Sanji’s sudden kick got the sheets tangled, and the oatmeal spilled into his lap, hot and burning. As he tried to wipe off the breakfast, Zoro groaned from the floor.

“I’m in an abusive relationship. I think I’m going to report domestic violence.”

“Oh yes, I’m _so_ cruel to you,” said Sanji, rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who made me spill the oatmeal!” He looked over at Zoro, who was now sitting on the floor beside his bed, hair a mess, and still as shirtless as ever.

“Come here,” Zoro said, beckoning him forward with a finger. “I need to get even.”

“Giving me third degree burns on my thighs isn’t enough?”

“Was it really that hot?” Alarm filled the swordsman’s eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” Sanji said quickly. “Just … stings a bit.”

“I’ll get you an ice pack.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Stay in bed, birthday boy!”

And then Zoro was gone.

Sanji laughed. The Marimo was ridiculous. He wasn’t even sure if they _had_ ice in the apartment. When Zoro turned up with frozen peas, Sanji’s suspicions were confirmed.

Zoro set the tray aside on the bedside table, which had most definitely _not_ been designed to hold something as large as an entire breakfast, before he forcefully yanked the blankets off of Sanji’s lower half.

“You know,” Zoro mused, as he sat down and placed the peas on Sanji, “when I imagined myself touching your thigh for the first time, somehow I thought it’d be different.”

“What, you don’t think injuries are sexy?” the blond teased.

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Don’t test me.”

“This is your fault, you know.”

“I’m not the one who spilt the oatmeal, and _you_ kicked _me_ , remember?”

“Only because you were being stupid.”

Zoro chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No more than you are. Can you get me my cigarettes?”

“They still in your blazer?”

“Left them on the desk,” Sanji said.

The blond remembered too late—

“You have the list?”

Sanji had taken to reading the list every night before he went to bed, and there it was, on the desk, in full display. His cheeks felt warm. “You gave it to me,” he said with a shrug. He stared at his boyfriend’s back, strong and well-built. His frame was amazing, his back muscles strong and his skin inviting.

“Do you remember number nine?”

The Marimo’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You didn’t number them.”

“Yeah, I didn’t.” There was a gentleness to Zoro’s voice that did things to the cook. “I didn’t want you to think all your traits were so few in number that they could be counted. They’re not really in any particular order either. I think I might add to it.”

“Oh yeah? And what would you put?”

Zoro turned to him, grinning. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He sat across from Sanji on the bed, a certain ease in his movements and confidence in his body that Sanji wished he had.

“So? Do you remember it?”

“Remember what?”

“Number nine.”

“Yes,” he said softly. Zoro didn’t have to know he had practically memorized the list of reasons down to the last coma. “The way you bite your lip.” He worried his lip, meeting Zoro’s eyes.

The intensity left him breathless.

“That’s right.”

“I think the food’s cooled down by now. Can I have it?” His throat was dry and while watery oatmeal wasn’t the greatest thing, it helped quench his thirst at the moment.

“If I did that,” Zoro said, getting on his hands and knees and then he was crawling and _so close._ “I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

And then he kissed him.

Fuck oatmeal, Zoro’s mouth was so much hotter.

Framing the swordsman’s face with his hands, Sanji pulled him as close as he could, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Zoro’s kisses were always hot, no matter how they were delivered, always made him feel lightheaded. The fact that his hands could now roam across his bare skin was amazing, he could feel the scars underneath his palms, the rough texture and the outline of his abs.

With a light push on Zoro’s chest, he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

“Good point,” he said in a hoarse voice, before diving back in for another kiss.

His hands fell away to his sides as Zoro pressed him into the mattress, sitting lightly on his stomach. The pain in Sanji’s thigh was long forgotten as the green-haired man kissed him. Their noses brushed together, and the blond could barely catch his breath with each kiss that was peppered against his skin. He was on fire, and Zoro’s shirt smelt so much like him, and it was all _too much_ and then Zoro was sucking on his neck.

Sanji ran his fingers through Zoro’s hair, gripping his scalp tightly, guiding him as he bit his lip, trying to hold in his moans. His hips bucked upwards and Zoro chuckled into his neck. He was melting under the swordsman’s skilled tongue, when his hands touched Sanji’s sides and he jerked upwards, laughing.

“Wow, easy there,” Zoro teased, just barely ducking away from Sanji’s knee. “Do I need to hold you down?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “You _wish_ you could hold me down.”

Zoro’s fingers ran over Sanji’s sides again, making the cook shiver. He felt Zoro’s breath on his skin, and he could barely register what was happening as the swordsman continued his movement, placing lazy kisses along Sanji’s jaw. “Your stubble is fucking annoying.”

“This is the first complaint I’ve ever heard.”

“Hmm …”

Zoro kissed at Sanji’s Adam’s apple, and he moaned, unable to hold himself back. His grip tightened in the other man’s hair and he pulled, unable to stop the reflex, his fingers turning white.

Zoro let out an ungodly sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan. "Fuck," he hissed.

Sanji tried to remove his hands from Zoro's head, so as not to pull the poor man's hair out, but the swordsman stopped him. "I like it."

Sanji's nails dug into his boyfriend's scalp as he made a mess of the sheets. Zoro was doing a good job of making a mess of him as his fingers slid underneath Sanji’s shirt. The cook couldn’t think clearly, otherwise he’d be inhaling so as not to reveal to Zoro how much fat he had, but the swordsman was lifting up the shirt slowly. He was barely touching his chest, but then there was so much warmth and—

“Fuck!”

Sanji thrust upwards as Zoro pinched his nipple.

Zoro grunted in agreement as he bit into Sanji’s neck. The cook’s back arched off the bed, his breathing ragged, shivers and goosebumps overtaking his body as Zoro licked the sore spot.

“You’re going to give me a hickey,” Sanji moaned, partially in pleasure, partially in complaint.

“That’s the idea,” Zoro chuckled, biting into him again lightly.

Zoro’s pinched his nipple again and Sanji could himself getting close. “You … shit, you have to stop …” He didn’t want him to, not with the way he was using his tongue, not with the sensations he was giving him.

“Am I going too far?” asked Zoro, pausing in his action.

“I’m … I’m going to cum, if you don’t stop.”

He could feel his wicked smirk against his pulse.

“Then cum for me.”

“Don’t say shit like that!”

Zoro hummed against him in response, the vibrations doing weird things to Sanji’s body.

“I want to make you feel good, Sanji,” whispered his boyfriend. “ _So good_. Don’t hold back, cum.”

“Did you learn that from a porn— _oh_!” Sanji clenched his teeth and his grip tightened on Zoro’s hair as he felt himself coming undone.

When it was over, he felt heavy and sated. His eyelids slid close as he lazily spread himself out across the bed.

“Sanji?”

“Hmm?” he replied, keeping his eyes closed. He could spend his entire birthday this way, in bed with Zoro, full of lazy kisses. He figured he owed Zoro an orgasm now, anyway.

“I …”

Sanji opened his eyes.

Zoro was looking at him with a gaze that held so much, speaking volumes without a single word coming out of his lips. They parted slowly and he took a deep breath, as though trying to prepare himself for what he wanted to say. “I …” Zoro licked his lips, Sanji watching his tongue as it traced over them and instinctively, he copied the movement. “I—”

_“SHIT!”_

Sanji pulled his hand back from the still-too-hot oatmeal bowl. Holding his hand up to himself, he blew on it. He couldn’t have hurt his hands, he couldn’t be _that_ stupid, could he?

Zoro gave him the ice pack again and Sanji held it in his hot hand. He flexed his fingers. They felt fine. There was no burning, no scarring, it had just been the shock, he supposed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sanji said, sitting up straight in his bed. His pants were starting to feel uncomfortable and sticky though. “You were saying something?”

Zoro bit his bottom lip. “I …” He shook his head. “It’s kind of hard …”

“Well, I imagine so, you _did_ just bring your boyfriend to orgasm. I should hope it turned you on.”

Zoro chuckled. It sounded tense. “Yeah. Never mind.”

“Hey,” Sanji said, voice quiet. “I’m sorry, I won’t interrupt. I’m here to listen. Take your time, we have all day.”

A shy smile spread across Zoro’s face. “Thanks. It’s just … I …”

Sanji waited.

“Sanji, I—”

_DING, DONG! DING, DONG!_

Zoro shut his eyes tightly, his fists clenched. “Fuckers.” With a sigh, he got up. “I’ll get the door. You … clean up.”

Sanji let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His chest felt tight … He needed a smoke.

Taking out his pack, he lit one up and breathed it in. It didn’t taste as good as it usually did.

The look in Zoro’s eyes haunted him. What had he been about to say? He had looked so anxious, so … _scared_ and yet at the same time, he had looked like there was nothing more he wanted to do than tell Sanji what was on his mind, even if the words wouldn’t come out.

“Sanji!” That was Luffy. It was early, what was he doing at their apartment? “Can you make me some meat? Nami says we’re out of bacon!”

With a sigh, Sanji cleaned himself off as best and quickly as he could, before putting on a new pair of pants and walking into the kitchen, greeted by Luffy, who was sporting a stupid grin on his face.

“So _that's_ where Zoro’s shirt went!” He turned to Zoro. “You know, you have that sex glow again.”

“I didn’t have sex,” Zoro said in an annoyed tone. “Sanji, make the man bacon so he can get the fuck out of here.”

Sanji complied, laughing all the while during the time Zoro yelled at Luffy rather loudly that he hadn’t “gotten laid to the point where he could be a skin model”.

Sanji turned the bacon over. “It’ll be ready soon,” he told Luffy. “It’s like, almost eight, what are you doing up?”

“I always get up early,” said Luffy with a big grin.

“I thought you were like Zoro, sleeping in until it’s practically night again.”

“No, I get up early,” Luffy replied. “But I take a few naps …”

“At your age?”

“Nap time was the greatest thing about school,” Luffy said fondly. “You never know what you have until it’s gone. But anyway, what’s up? Why’s Zoro up?”

Zoro whispered something in Luffy’s ear. The dark haired man’s eyes widened. “It’s your birthday?!”

“It’s no big deal though,” Sanji said hastily, taking the bacon out of the pan and slipping it onto a plate. “You sure you don’t want anything else? I don’t mind making more than bacon.”

“Now I feel bad,” Luffy said with a small frown. “It’s your birthday and I made you cook for me …”

Sanji took a piece of bacon off the plate and ate it. “There. Now I’ve cooked for myself as well.” He tried not to cringe as the horribly oily piece of meat went down his throat.

“Hey! Don’t touch my bacon!” Luffy said, pulling the plate away from him.

Sanji gave him a strange look.

Luffy picked up the plate and looked between the two. “I should go, shouldn’t I?”

“Why?”

“Well, since it’s Sanji’s birthday and all,” Luffy said slowly, “you’re going to spend the day in bed, right?”

“WHAT?!” both he and Zoro demanded, their voices cracking.

Luffy laughed loudly. “I’ll leave you to it, okay? Just remember to be safe!”

With that, he left the apartment, shutting the door with a loud _SLAM_!

The two stood in silence.

Finally, Sanji found his voice. “He … he thinks I’m going to spend my birthday getting fucked by you?”

Zoro shook his head, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Though Sanji wasn’t planning on having sex with the Marimo for quite some time, he felt a little disappointed. Was the idea of fucking him so bad? He remembered how Zoro could get hard just from kissing him. Surely, he wasn’t repulsed by Sanji … was he?

“I can’t believe that guy!”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Sanji let out a nervous laugh. “The audacity …”

“I know! How dare he think I’ve got some STD?!”

Sanji blinked.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he said finally. “But … _that’s_ what you’re focusing on?”

Zoro stared at him strangely. “Was there _something else_ I should’ve been focusing on?”

“Well, I mean …” Sanji rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know …”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “If I’m not clean, I don’t know what I am. I haven’t done it in so long, unless there’s some incubus or something fucking me in my sleep.” He paused, looking at Sanji out of the corner of his eye before his brow furrowed in concern. “Did you … Did you think I was talking about …?”

“No,” Sanji muttered, turning his head away.

“Sanji.”

Zoro’s gripped him by his shoulders, then began tracing patterns over his shoulder blades. He leaned in, whispering in Sanji’s ear. “Did I ever tell you how fuckable you look in my shirt?”

Sanji’s breath hitched as Zoro licked his ear, taking his earlobe into his mouth before letting it go.

_Fuck me, how am I hard again?!_

“N-no,” Sanji said in a soft voice.

“Do you know what you do to me?” whispered Zoro, sending shivers down his spine. “My cock is so hard for you right now, you’ve got me on edge. I’m _always_ on edge around you. You don’t even have the slightest idea what you do to me, do you?” He pressed his body closer to Sanji’s, and the blond’s breath hitched. “Can you feel it?”

Sanji hissed, the friction making his head spin. “Fuck,” he gasped, feeling his breathing increase.

“Sounds good to me,” Zoro whispered, moving from Sanji’s ear to his neck, licking gently at the skin, sucking slightly. “Number eleven, do you remember it?”

“Skin,” Sanji choked out. “You l-like my skin.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Zoro told him softly. “I _love_ your skin.”

Zoro pushed against Sanji and the two backed up until the back of Sanji’s knees hit the sofa and he fell into a sitting position. Zoro fell to his knees and took his hand into his. He then proceeded to lick his palm, never breaking eye contact.

“Z-Zoro,” he choked out in a raspy voice.

“Twenty-three,” Zoro hummed in response, licking around Sanji’s index finger.

“My voice …”

“Thirty-four.”

“T-there— ha! Oh fuck! T-there isn’t a thirty-fourth,” Sanji tried to speak when began to suck three of his fingers, and bit gently at his skin.

“There is now,” Zoro said. “The way you say my name. Number nineteen, do you remember it?” he asked, pressing a kiss against the cook’s racing pulse.

“My … my sensitivity.”

Sanji pulled his fingers from Zoro’s hot mouth, and instead pulled him up by his shirt, so abruptly, Zoro had to brace himself on Sanji’s thighs.

Sanji kissed him.

For some reason, this kiss felt more intimate than when Zoro had brought him to orgasm. Zoro was pouring everything into it as he pulled at Sanji’s hair gently, as though trying to mould them together. Passion, want, desire and … there was something Sanji couldn’t name, couldn’t name because he had never felt it before.

His neck hurt from the angle, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as Zoro’s hands travelled to his pants.

“Hey, I just changed,” Sanji giggled. He pulled Zoro up, then pushed him onto the coffee table. “You on the other hand …” Sanji didn’t let himself think as his hand went into Zoro’s pants. The swordsman’s breath hitched.

“Fuck, _your hands_ …”

“Number five,” Sanji remembered fondly as he began to stroke Zoro. He felt every vein against his palm and he was so _hot_ , Sanji felt himself ready to go again. He squeezed tighter, like Zoro had told him he liked it and worked his way from the base to the tip, over and over again, slow as he did it.

“Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t fucking stop,” Zoro said, thrusting up into Sanji’s hand. “ _Fuck_.”

Sanji grinned, an idea hitting him. “Zoro, do you like it when I touch your cock?” He felt it twitch in his hand. “Do you like it when I stroke you like this? When I touch your dick, the feeling of my hand on you, do you like that? When I squeeze you hard, does that turn you on? When I talk dirty, when I talk about your big, hard, cock, does that make you needy?”

Zoro fucking _whimpered_.

Sanji was taking that as a yes.

“Fuck, Sanji, I’m not going to last long.”

Sanji leaned over and kissed him soundly, swallowing his moan as he came. When the blond pulled his hand back, it was sticky. He licked his hand experimentally. Still salty.

“You have to stop that, or else I’ll get hard again,” Zoro told him. He sounded winded.

Sanji grinned, but it was interrupted with a cough.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Y-ye—” He was coughing again.

Fuck, why did his chest hurt?

His breathing was quickening. Sanji was panicking. 

Zoro froze. “Sanji, can you breathe?”.

“ _Ahou_ , why wouldn’t I?”

Zoro took Sanji’s chin in his hand, making him meet his eyes. “Sanji, copy me, okay?”

Sanji was confused, his lungs constricting as Zoro slowly breathed in through his nose and held it for a few seconds before breathing out through his mouth. “Sanji, your gaze is getting glassy, look at me,” he commanded in a gentle voice. “Focus on me, just me.”

Sanji did and slowly, he began to copy him. There was something calming about matching his breaths with Zoro’s, inhaling as Zoro inhaled, exhaling as Zoro exhaled. It was at that moment that he heard it. The sound that made Zoro get that worried crease in his forehead.

Sanji’s breath … it was coming out like a wheeze.

He froze the moment he realized it and his throat seemed to clog up. “W-what’s … what’s h-ha…”

Another fit of coughs.

“Don’t talk,” Zoro said, “Don't talk. I’m going to ask you question and you’re going to nod or shake your head. Does your chest hurt?”

“A little—”

Zoro covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. “ _Don’t_ talk,” he said again. “Shake your head or nod. Does your chest hurt?”

Sanji nodded.

“Breathe for me,” Zoro said, his eyes filled with a worry Sanji had never had directed at him before. “Just take a deep breath.”

Sanji did as told, taking a deep breath and then letting it out.

“Does your chest still hurt?”

It hurt less, not as much. He could ignore it. He shook his head.

“Good …” Zoro stood up and pulled Sanji up as well. “Get dressed, I’m going to take you out.”

“Partys?”

“No,” Zoro shook his head. “Nah, not now. How about we go see a movie? Is there anything you want to see right now?”

“Depends. Am I allowed to talk?” Sanji shot back. His chest still hurt, but he could breathe again.

Why Zoro was making such a big deal out of it was beyond him.

“Yeah, sure,” said Zoro distractedly. “What do you want to see?”

“ _Rurouni Kenshin,_ the last movie’s out.”

Zoro nodded. “Get dressed, I’ll check the papers for the times.”

“You sure you don’t want to clean yourself up?”

“Later.”

Sanji nodded, but he frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Zoro replied. But he wouldn’t look at him.

* * *

“Two for _Rurouni Kenshin: The Legend Ends_ ,” Zoro told the woman behind the counter. “You want popcorn?” he asked Sanji.

“Sure.”

“Anything on it?”

“Butter,” Sanji decided, taking out a cigarette.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the woman at the counter, “smoking isn’t allowed in here.”

Sanji put his cigarette back.

“I’ll get us a big one, alright?”

“If you eat it all during the trailers, I’m kicking your ass,” Sanji warned.

Zoro smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Theatre five,” the woman said, handing Zoro two tickets. “Please enjoy the movie.”

Zoro turned to Sanji. “We have fifteen minutes before it starts. You wanna go in first?”

“Nah,” Sanji said. “I think I’m going to go outside. I need a smoke.”

“They’re cancer sticks you know,” Zoro said with a sigh. “Fine. Just don’t be late.”

“Good luck finding the room, Marimo.”

With that, he left the cinema to stand outside.

He lit up another cigarette, smiling to himself as he stared at the engraving from Zoro. He slipped it back into his pocket before putting the cigarette to his lips.

Inhaling slowly, Sanji let it fill him when his lungs constricted. He pulled the cigarette out and coughed into his sleeve. Was it allergies? It _was_ that time of year after all.

He hadn’t coughed on a cigarette since back when he first started. He turned the cigarette over in between his fingers.

It was cold outside, he could see his breath. There was still some snow on the ground that refused to melt as it turned into spring.

Glancing around him, he watched the people pass by, trying to clear his head. A mana nd his daughter entered the theatre, hand in hand. There was a couple approaching the entrance, their hands swinging between each other, the boy blushing from the cold or the close proximity to his girlfriend, Sanji didn’t know.

He brought the cigarette back to his lips and sucked in a breath. It irritated his throat.

Sanji frowned.

_Has it ever done that before?_

It scratched at his esophagus, burned a little, nothing he wasn’t used to, but the urge to cough again rose up in his throat. He pushed it down, causing him to let out a few choking sounds. He shrugged and put away his cigarettes, reentering the cinema.

The first thing he spotted was a tall green-haired man looking both left and right, holding a large bag of popcorn and two sodas.

Sanji rolled his eyes and approached him. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

“It’s not my fault theatre five is hidden,” Zoro muttered under his breath.

Sanji decided not to mention that each theatre had their number written over their doors in neon lights. “It’s upstairs,” he said, rolling his eyes.

It was the first time Sanji could say he didn’t feel a shred of embarrassment as he dragged Zoro by his hand up the stairs. There were some people staring at them, but Sanji gave them no mind, focused entirely on the feeling of Zoro’s hand in his.

They entered the theatre and fell into seats in the back.

“You know, this is where people who want to mess around sit,” Zoro whispered in Sanji’s ear as the lights dimmed and the trailers began.

“Oh really?” Sanji asked with a smirk.

Zoro gently nibbled at his ear. He could see the smirk, even in the darkness. “Want to?”

“To what? Mess around?” Sanji asked in a teasing voice.

“Amongst other things …”

“You’re such a pervert,” he accused, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Was this morning not enough for you?”

“I’m insatiable when it comes to you.”

“You’re a sex monster, that’s what you are,” said the blond with a roll of his eyes.

“Sanji …”

There was that tone again. The one that made Sanji feel as though Zoro was about to tell him something really important. Something that could alter the course of their relationship completely.

Sanji sucked in a breath, waiting.

_Could he …?_

“I …”Zoro was silent for a moment. “I wanted to tell you that …”

_Don’t rush him, it’s not his fault he’s so slow at this. Calm down, fuck, Sanji, it might not be what you think._

“Yes?” Sanji pressed anyway, feeling his heart race.

“See, I really want you to know that I …” He could imagine Zoro biting his lip slowly, licking his lips. “ _Ai-aish_ —”

“The movie’s starting,” someone in front of them hissed, silencing both Zoro and Sanji.

Sanji really wanted to kick the guy in the head. He waited for a moment before whispering, “What was it?”

“Nothing,” Zoro replied quietly. “It wasn’t important.”

Correction: Sanji really wanted to _kill_ the guy in front of him. A kick would never suffice.

* * *

“So?”

“So what?” Zoro asked.

Sanji stared at his boyfriend expectantly. They were at Luffy’s now. The straw hat had decided that since it was Sanji’s birthday, they ought to throw a party. He was pretty sure that Luffy just wanted an excuse to eat cake, but whatever.

Nami, Usopp and Luffy had each given him a gift, sort of rushed, but much appreciated. Zoro on the other hand, had known about his birthday for a while. Surely he had gotten him something, right?

“My present?” Sanji pressed.

“God, you’re so needy,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go get it.”

Zoro got up and left in search of his gift when Nami slid into the seat Zoro had just occupied.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Zoro’s glowing,” Nami said. “It’s a sex glow and now that I look at you a little closer, you have perfect skin.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Moisturizer. Works wonders,” he teased. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I haven’t slept with him, he hasn’t slept with me, there has been no sex.”

“That’s not what I heard …”

Sanji froze. “Oh yeah?”

Luffy laughed. “You squeaked!”

“Did not!”

“You did it again!”

“Look, it doesn’t matter, it was just a handjob or two—”

“Handjob?” Nami echoed. “I thought it was a blowjob. Zoro’s been holding out on me.”

_Shit._

“I uh, yeah, that’s what I meant. Hand, blow, very similar sounds, so you know …”

Nami grinned wickedly. “Yeah right. I bet you _did_ have sex today. And you’re just not sharing.”

Zoro returned just then, much to Sanji’s relief. He looked between Nami and Sanji, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing with him?”

“Nothing much …”

“Move away.”

“Possessive, aren’t we?” she teased.

“I know my boyfriend’s hot, but you’ve already got one.”

“Aw, but Zoro—”

“Move. _Now_.”

Nami moved, a stupid grin on her face all the while.

Zoro placed a bag in front of Sanji. “I can’t wrap things, as you know so I kinda just …” He trailed off.

“Shoved it into a bag with tissue paper and hoped for the best?” Sanji finished.

“The damn woman at the store did it, okay? She said I wasn’t doing it right anyway. All you need to do is stuff the shit inside, right? But apparently that’s wrong so …” He blushed. “Look, just open it, okay?”

Sanji grinned.

Reaching into the bag, he held onto a thick … book? He slowly pulled the volume out and immediately, his eyes widened. “This is …”

“A fucking fortune, I know,” Zoro muttered. “You better be damned grateful, Curly Brow,” Zoro told him.

In Sanji’s lap was a giant book. _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare._

“Oh my God, Zoro, where did you find this?” Sanji asked, staring at it open mouthed.

“I know you said you’ve memorized all of his stuff, but I mean, doesn’t hurt to have it, right?” Zoro scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I can’t believe you did this Zoro,” said Nami. She frowned. “I’m expecting an amazing birthday present this year, Roronoa.”

Sanji smiled. “I love it,” he declared. “Thank you Zoro, thank you so much!” He wrapped his arms around the swordsman, pulling him closer into a tight hug before pulling back and giving him a quick kiss. “You’re fucking amazing Zoro, did you know that?”

“Nope, but it’s good to know,” replied his boyfriend with a grin and another quick kiss.

* * *

The party went on, cake was eaten, sake was given out (Zoro refused it) and Sanji smoked a few more cigarettes. His throat was beginning to itch. It was irritating him, as he lit up a new cigarette on Luffy’s front porch.

Zoro poked his head out from behind the front screen door. “Hey,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Hey yourself,” Sanji replied, stepping aside. He twirled the cigarette between his fingers, glancing at Zoro nervously. He knew Zoro was a worry-wart, and he didn’t trust himself not to inhale without coughing.

Zoro leaned against the porch’s railing alongside Sanji, the cool March air brushing through both men’s hair.

“Cold, isn’t it?”

“You’re shit at small talk, Marimo.”

“Heh …” The swordsman looked almost humbled with the way he was opening and closing his mouth, like he couldn’t quite decide how he wanted to say words.

“You’re stalling.”

“That obvious?”

“Absolutely.” Sanji grinned. “C’mon, you can talk to me. It’s your turn to bitch.”

Zoro rubbed his neck. “I uh, don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been … I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Gathered as much.” Sanji frowned. “You alright? You’re acting like some kind of blushing virgin. I won’t tell anyone though. I left your shirt in your room—”

“Keep it.”

Sanji stood up a little straighter. He was itching for his cigarette. Could he risk it? “Oh?”

“It looks better on you anyway. We live together, it’s amazing we haven’t swapped clothes before this.”

“I mean your shirt isn’t so much big on it me as it’s wide,” Sanji observed. “I don’t have that extra muscle to fill out the space. Though I will lend you some dress shirts, you were fucking sexy on Valentine’s.”

“Oh really?” Zoro’s voice raised an octave.

“Are you nervous?”

“I thought we weren’t playing that game.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Sanji moved closer, running his hand along Zoro’s arm. ”Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Zoro admitted.

“Why?”

Zoro blushed. “Why aren’t _you_ nervous?”

Sanji brought the cigarette to his lips, giving into the temptation, and giving himself something to do while he thought up his answer. Maybe he should be, considering how he had felt prepared to ask Zoro to fuck him that morning despite his history. He felt strangely at ease. “I dunno, perhaps I’m just used to you by now.” He shrugged. “Could be because I trust you. Could be a lot of things really, why do you—”

“ _Je t’aime._ ”

“—ask …” Sanji trailed off. “You’re speaking French again Marimo, I can’t understand you.”

“ _A_ - _aishiteru_.”

Now _that_ , Sanji understood.

He could feel his chest tightening again. His lungs weren’t working. He tried to breathe. A whistling sound came out.

His windpipe felt blocked. Something was stopping the flow of oxygen. His muscles tensed up. The cigarette slipped from his hand. It hit the porch, lit a small flame to the wooden panels, before extinguishing.

His face felt hot. He was suffocating.

_Why couldn’t he breathe?_

His visions went blurry. There were spots of white everywhere. His chest tightened, knotting up. He was drowning on land. Pressure, so much pressure in his chest. He stumbled, grabbed onto Zoro, could hear a distorted version of his name.

He could barely make out Zoro’s face, but his eyebrows were creased in worry and Sanji was scared and he opened his mouth to say something, _anything_.

A whistle came out.

He tried again.

A choke.

The air was heavy, wasn’t entering him properly.

A squeak.

Air.

_He needed air._

And then everything was black.


	31. Try To Quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Sanji had a really shitty life, okay?

Sitting in the white waiting room of the hospital was pure torture. The walls were white, the chairs were uncomfortable and the fucking nurse wouldn't let Zoro into the fucking room.

He remembered teasing Sanji about how, with the way he was smoking, he’d be the next one of the two to end up in the hospital. Fuck, he really wanted to take those words back. Had he jinxed it? Zoro wasn’t superstitious, but still … God he felt restless and horrible, this was going to drive him absolutely insane.

The nurse walked out of Sanji’s room.

Zoro jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking the shitty thing over. “Can I see him?”

“He says he has no last name,” said the nurse with a puzzled expression on her face. “And he doesn’t seem to have his medicare card or anything of that sort either. Who is he?”

“Can I see him?” Zoro repeated.

Her expression hardened. The next time Sanji went on about how beautiful nurses looked Zoro would bring up the old hag who was blocking his way to his boyfriend as a point of refutation.

“What’s your relation to him?”

“I’m his boyfriend.”

The woman’s nose crinkled.

_Oh. So she’s one of those._

“Only those who are family to the patient can—”

“He has no fucking family,” Zoro snapped. “No blood relative and his guardian is off who knows where, probably at some chef conference in Germany or some shit like that! I’m the only thing he has!”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down—”

“I will not fucking calm down!” Zoro pinched the bridge of his nose. Yelling wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Look, I just want to see him. Can’t you let me do that? Is his condition serious? Does he need medication? What is going on?!”

“Sir, I know you’re upset, but I’m going to need you to be level-headed about this,” the nurse said slowly. “We can't have you fantic, it could cause the patient more stress. He seems to be acting strangely as it is.” She shook her head. “We’ve run a diagnosis already,—”

“What is it?” Zoro asked. “What’s going on? Is it lethal? Is he going to die?”

“It’s nothing like that, but we prefer for the patients themselves to tell their family— or I suppose, in your case … significant others …” The way she said it made each word seem like poison. She looked Zoro up and down and shook her head. “In any case, our hospital policy allows the patients to decide who they will tell about their condition, rather than us disclosing information without their consent.”

“Can I see him?”Zoro asked. This woman was making him panic. He was expecting the worse, he was expecting to find Sanji on his death bed. He needed to talk to him, or else his heart might leap out of his throat. “I just … I _need_ to see him.”

The woman’s mouth was set in a firm line. “Okay. But, before I let you see him, I have a question for you.”

“What?” He was ready to answer anything, if they’d let him see him.

“He’s a smoker, isn’t he?” she asked. “His voice sounds a little hoarse. He said it’s natural.”

“Yeah, why?” Zoro asked distractedly.

“How long has he been smoking?”

Zoro didn’t understand how this was important, but he tried to remember that night when Sanji had sat down with him and spoke about his past. He was thirteen when he started, right? “Ten years? Around?”

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip. What did that mean? Was she worried because Sanji had been smoking for so long? That he had started so young? Or was it something else entirely?

The nurse opened the door and moved to the side to give Zoro the space he needed. “You may enter.”

Zoro said nothing and entered the room. It was familiar, all wards in the hospital looked the same. He turned around to thank her, but she had shut the door and was walking off down the hall.

Zoro turned back around and went to the foot of Sanji’s bed.

The cook was pale. Paler than usual. He was lying in a hospital robe with a frown on his face. One of his hands was tapping on the silver rail on the side of the bed that kept patients from falling over and the other was dusting off non-existent lint. _He’s reaching for a cigarette_ , Zoro realized.

There was silence.

Zoro made to clear his throat, but Sanji beat him to it.

“Fucking bastards took my pack.”

Zoro nodded. It was stupid, but he didn’t know what else to do. If he opened his mouth, he’d either be screaming at Sanji for being so stupid, and not realizing the condition he was in, or asking him whether or not he had heard his confession.

“What happened?” asked Sanji. “After I passed out, I mean.”

Zoro bit his lip. “I … well I started yelling …”

* * *

 

_Zoro’s voice was caught in this throat, unable to speak. He couldn’t find words, the only thing going through his head at the moment was to splash water in Sanji’s face and have him look him in the eyes again, properly. He didn’t care about an answer to his confession, he didn’t want one, he just wanted Sanji to open his eyes again._

_“Sanji,” he choked out, feeling the cook’s body limp in his arms._

_His words were getting jumbled in his head, and his voice wasn’t working properly. He tried to yell for help, but instead he ended up choking. Gripping the cook tightly, he leaned him against the porch. He gently hit him across the face, tapping more than anything._

_“Sanji, Sanji.” He kept his voice soft, so there was no audible panic. He was sure it leaked through anyway. “Sanji, can you hear me?”_

_Of course he couldn’t fucking hear him, his eyes had rolled into the back of his head and his face looked blue!_

_Sanji’s chest was rising and falling, but it was slow._

_Fuck, he knew something was wrong this morning!_

_“Nami! Luffy! Usopp! Call an ambulance!” he yelled. He didn’t want to shake Sanji too hard, for fear of hurting him and he didn’t trust his movie knowledge of CPR. He didn’t want to accidentally make things worse. He didn't know what to do, so instead he just stayed there, on his knees in front of the passed out Sanji, holding his hand tightly._

_The sounds of the others inside the house moving around fell on deaf ears._

_Nami took one look at Sanji and was dialling 110 before her next breath._

_She began to talk to an operator while Luffy dropped down to his knees next to Zoro._

_“What happened?” he asked, “what’s going on?”_

_“I don’t know,” Zoro said. He felt like crying. He wasn’t sad, he was fucking fuming. That Sanji had just collapsed without any warning, without any indication and he couldn’t keep a calm head, he was just panicking and there was nothing he could do … “Fuck, Nami, we need an ambulance!”_

_“I know!” she screamed at him, hurriedly speaking to the operator._

_Usopp was freaking out as well, but he was able to show his mental break down. He was mumbling to himself, pacing, screaming, pulling out his hair. Zoro felt as though it was his duty to remain calm, but his heart was racing a thousand miles per minute and he felt the sudden and undeniable urge to puke. He wasn't sure how long he could deal with this, how long he’d be able to look at Sanji this way._

_Save for the almost invisible movement of his chest, Sanji looked dead._

_He couldn’t lose him. Not like he had lost Her._

_He felt so_ **_stupid_ ** _, for having put Sanji through something similar with his rash actions. Had he honestly forgotten the panic when the one you loved stopped moving?_

_He raised a hand to Sanji’s cheek. He was cold. Fuck, he was freezing._

_Now Zoro couldn’t breathe. He was sucking in breaths too quickly, sucking in more air even as he exhaled. It was all he could do to stop himself from crying._

_It was ten minutes before the ambulance arrived. By that time, it seemed as though Sanji had stopped breathing entirely._

_They let Zoro ride with him in the ambulance and hooked Sanji up to a machine that helped him breathe._

_The entire time he sat there holding Sanji’s hand tightly, wondering what on Earth had happened, trying not to freak out. He highly doubted that’d be good for Sanji, should he wake up in the middle of the ride to the hospital._

_He never did._

_When they got there, Zoro was rushed out of the ambulance and Sanji was forced into several testing rooms._

_He was asked numerous questions; what was the patient’s name, did he have proper health insurance, was he healthy before hand? How old was he, how long had he been acting like this, was there anything he did in his daily life that may trigger such a reaction?_

_And then after about an hour of questioning, Zoro was put in the waiting room with his leg tapping against the floor constantly, trying to get himself under control until that damn nurse came by._

* * *

 

“And uh yeah, that’s how I’m here,” Zoro said slowly.

“How long was I out for? The nurse wouldn’t tell me. I woke up maybe an hour ago,” Sanji said.

“About …” Zoro counted in his head. “You’ve been out for nearly nine hours. It’s March 2nd still, but it’s nearly midnight.”

“Were you … you were here the whole time?” Sanji asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah …”

“What about Usopp? Luffy? Nami?”

“The ambulance said that only one person was allowed to ride with the patient and they all said I should go, since I’ve known you the longest …” Zoro turned his head away. He could still see Sanji’s fingers tapping and reaching for a smoke, even from the corner of his eye. He was literally going through the motions.

“Do you know what I have?”

Zoro shook his head. “The nurse said it was up to you to tell me … But you don’t … you don’t have cancer, do you?” Zoro asked. “I mean I know those cigarettes are cancer sticks but really when I said you’d go to an early grave, I was joking! I don’t want … I’d never want …”

Sanji laughed lightly, but it sounded a tad strained. “No, I don’t have cancer,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You really do imagine the worse case scenario, don't you, Marimo?”

Zoro played with his fingers, fiddling with his thumbs and cracking his knuckles.

Sanji stared at his hands as he popped an air bubble in his right index finger. “That’ll give you arthritis you know,” he said.

“Myth,” Zoro answered. “It's just very annoying.”

“That it is,” Sanji said. “That it is.”

“You know, the longer you delay telling me, the worse things I’m going to think. Now I’m wondering if you have pneumonia or leukaemia or if you’re anemic, or if you’ve discovered you have diabetes and you neglected to tell me, or that you’re one of those hopeless cases who only have six months to live—”

“Asthma.”

Zoro blinked.

“Asthma?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God!”

Sanji shook his head. “You sure sound excited.”

“I totally thought you were going to _die_ , you scared the shit out of me,” Zoro snapped. “You can’t do that to me anymore, you can’t, you realize that? I nearly died, nearly had a heart attack. I’m twenty-three, I can’t have heart attacks at this age!”

Sanji shook his head. “I don’t know, they’re giving me an inhaler, I’m being told specifically not to smoke …” Sanji’s eye twitched a little at that. “I have to avoid all possible triggers … They took away my fucking pack Zoro!” he screamed. “I’m going to go insane! I’ve never gone this long without a smoke, not unless I was sleeping!”

“Hey,” said Zoro, reaching over the bed and taking Sanji’s hand that was on the rail. It twitched in his, trying to continue its tapping. “You went nearly a decade without them, you can do another decade. And another. And then maybe two more decades. Maybe five more.”

“ _Ahou,_ I’ll be fucking old as shit by then.” Sanji clenched his fist, grabbing chunks of the sheets. “It was easy the first nine years, it’s always easy when you never know what it is.”

“You became reliant on them, right? To calm yourself down. Because of _them_.” He didn’t say their names. Sanji squeezed his hand. “That threat’s gone, you know it. You don’t need it to relieve yourself of that pressure, the pressure’s gone. Maybe the addiction's still there, but we can work around it. Sanji, you’re going to get through this. I don’t think something as small as asthma’s going to beat you.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say!”

“Okay.” Zoro let go out Sanji’s hand. “How about I propose a deal with you?”

“What kind of deal?”

“If you stop smoking, say 24 hours without a cigarette, I’ll let you kiss me,” Zoro proposed. “Sound fair?”

Sanji reached out for Zoro, but the swordsman pulled back. “Are you serious?”

“Am I not enough of a motivator?” He bit his bottom lip. “You want to touch me, don’t you?”

Zoro knew he craved Sanji’s touch, he wanted to feel the man against him, feel his soft skin, taste his lips. Did _Sanji_ want it? Most of the time, if not all of the time, Zoro initiated all of their kisses, all their touches. What if Sanji was just responding to him because he felt bad for him? Because after what happened with the cooks, he felt like he wasn’t able to deny people things?

A stone dropped in his stomach at the thought, the idea that Sanji was with him because he felt like he had to be. Here Zoro was, in love with a man who saw him as someone to fear, someone he felt trapped in a relationship with.

Sanji bit his bottom lip, turning away from him.

Zoro felt himself deflate. He was about to get up, to tell Sanji in a tight voice that he’d get his coat to go and leave before the sweetest cake he had ever tasted came back up his throat, when Sanji spoke so quietly, Zoro nearly missed it.

“Maybe."

“Maybe?” Zoro repeated. Maybe wasn’t a yes, but he could work with maybe. Maybe meant there was a possibility, a possibility he could get Sanji as addicted to his kisses as he was to his.

Sanji’s cheeks were flushing red. “Well I mean … Marimo …” He trailed off and Zoro realized he wasn’t done talking. “I … I wouldn’t kiss you back if I hated it …” He turned redder with every word. “And I mean … I wouldn’t … I wouldn’t have even thought of doing _that_ if you repulsed me …”

Zoro’s brain tried to process everything. Swallowing thickly, he said, “So … do we have a deal?”

“And if I don’t make the deal?” Sanji asked, the red on his cheeks slowly dimming.

“Then … well then you’ll just continue to give me heart attacks like that and I’ll have to drag you to the hospital when you get a serious attack like that.” Zoro shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out ways to help you cope, you know. You don’t have to take my suggestions, or listen to me at all if you don’t want to. I’m not … I’m not going to leave you if you say no. I’ll just live in a constant state of cardiac arrest. Course, I’d prefer if that _wasn’t_ the case, but …” He grinned. “What can you do?”

Sanji looked up at him with his blue eyes. “Okay.” He held out his hand. “Shake on it?”

“I don’t really—”

“Shake my hand, Marimo.”

Zoro took the cook’s hand in his own, revelling in the warmth, when he was suddenly pulled forward onto the hospital bed. He landed with an “omph”, quickly swallowed by Sanji’s mouth on his.

It was soft, brief and barely there. It left the swordsman breathless.

He pulled away, finding that he and Sanji were wearing matching expressions of embarrassment.

“To tide me over,” said the blond.

_He’s going to be the death of me._

But what a sweet death it would be.

* * *

 

While on his way to the hospital the next morning, Zoro regretted his deal.

Sanji wasn’t limited to Zoro. He was a social butterfly, despite his trauma. He was so at ease with others, could make small talk without batting an eyelash whereas Zoro awkwardly walked around and spoke in a mixed jumble of words. The blond would have no trouble finding someone else to talk to in that big hospital, would probably make lots of friends. He was also attractive as hell, and whereas Zoro was a bit hesitant with relationships, Sanji was a natural flirt.

Sanji was bisexual, he had said it himself. He still liked the girls, still commented on Nami’s beauty and on others with no visible shame. He had made friends with Moodie, who was older than him by at least six years and she had wanted to pursue a relationship with him. It was clear that he attracted women, as well as men, even if he wasn’t trying.

Zoro gripped the steering wheel tighter and turned right when the GPS told him to. Wait, no, that had been left, hadn’t it?

Visiting hours started at ten. It was nine forty-five. Zoro still had some way to go before he was able to see Sanji and now he was worried out of his mind that some other person, some nice, smooth-talking, beautiful woman would get to him first. Perhaps the reason that nurse had been so upset wasn’t because she was homophobic, but rather, upset that Sanji was tied down to a man.

Sanji … Sanji wouldn’t cheat on him, would he?

He quickly made what he was pretty sure was an illegal U-turn and went back to the transit, taking the other right this time, the right right, and continued down the road.

He was worrying too much, right? Surely, Sanji was a good man, he was loyal, he could be faithful …

But then again, the cooks had done horrible things to him. It was a miracle Sanji was even with Zoro, considering he was part of the sex that had stolen one of Sanji’s most treasured things. If anything, it would make sense if Sanji was turned off of men entirely. But he said he didn’t hate it, right? At the same time though, Sanji had also admitted he had never been in a relationship before, which meant that surely he wanted to experiment? He had originally considered himself to be straight, but he had never done anything with a woman. Maybe he wanted to try it out, see if he liked it better than men …

Zoro gritted his teeth. He was freaking out over nothing, wasn't he?

He hadn’t slept much the night before, knowing that they were keeping Sanji in the hospital for a few more days in order to make him go through therapy, something that had to do with helping him stop smoking.

_Make him stop smoking …_

Maybe it wouldn’t take him that long. It was twenty-four hours, surely Sanji could handle it? It would’ve been an extreme to say that he wanted Sanji to stop smoking for an extended period of time, like say, a week, a day wasn’t too much to ask, right? Maybe Zoro wouldn’t have to wait too long …

* * *

The moment Zoro stepped into the hospital room, he knew he’d have to wait.

Sanji was fiddling with his lighter, flicking it on and off, watching the flames. Zoro knew in that second that if he were to hand Sanji a pack of cigarettes, he’d light up instantly. The blond was standing leaning in front of the giant window of his room. He was in his usual clothes now, but he was still digging his hand in his pocket, still expecting a pack to be there.

“Morning.”

Sanji jumped at Zoro’s voice.

“Don’t fucking do that! You caught me off guard,” he scowled. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you have a lighter?” asked Zoro, raising an eyebrow. Immediately, a horrible realization occurred to him. “Roll up your sleeves.”

“What?” Sanji asked, staring at him in confusion. “No.”

“You know when you refuse, that just makes me more certain something’s wrong.”

Sanji sighed and rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m your boyfriend, can’t you just trust me on this? I’m not getting high on anything, no heroin, no pointless crap like that.” He rubbed his arm. Zoro’s eyes followed the movement. “What?” he asked.

“Sanji, roll up your sleeves.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Sanji repeated, “I’m telling you, it’s nothing!”’

“If it’s nothing, then show me!”

“Make me!”

Zoro reached out. Sanji recoiled. Zoro dropped his hand instantly. “I’m not … I’m not going to make you,” the swordsman said, closing his eyes and breathing. “I don’t … I don’t want to hurt you, okay? I’m just … I worry about you, alright? I want you to be okay.”

“I am.” He seemed ruffled.

“I trust you, you know I do, but—”

“Bullshit! You wouldn’t be insisting to check if you trusted me!” The blond wrapped his arms protectively over himself. With the way he was leaning on the window, Zoro feared the glass would pop out of its frame and he’d fall several stories.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I … never mind. It’s all good. You just …” _I want to catch you, when you fall. Because I know I can't stop the fall, I know I can’t. I don’t even notice when you jump, but I want you to stick the landing._ “Never mind.”

Sanji flicked the lighter again, staring at the fire. “It’s your lighter, dumbass.”

Zoro quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your lighter,” Sanji repeated. “Christmas, remember?”

Right. His lighter.

“You use it?”

“Well, not anymore,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. “For obvious reasons. But I want to keep it. You gave it to me, so it’s mine now.”

“That tends to be what happens when you give people gifts,” Zoro chuckled nervously. “Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

Sanji bit his lip. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

The cook sighed, staring at the floor intensely for a moment before he rolled up his left sleeve. There were some scars around his wrist, none of which looked new to Zoro’s great relief, a few burn marks from cooking, and then he saw three, circular dots on Sanji’s forearm.

“What are those from?”

Sanji turned his head away.

“Sanji, _what are these from_?”

“Cigarettes.”

“You fucking burnt yourself using your own cigarettes?”

“Don’t …” Sanji shut his eyes tightly. “Don’t get mad.”

“Don’t get mad?” Zoro echoed. “ _Don’t get mad_?”

“And you’re mad …”

“Of course I’m fucking mad! I thought you smoked so you could ignore the pain, to focus on something else. What the fuck were you doing, during yourself with them?”

“It was …” Sanji shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t do it often … Sometimes ash would just fall, you know? And I don't know, I just … I didn’t have anywhere to put out the cigarette and if I used my fingers then I’d have trouble holding things and—”

“So you drove the fucking cigarette into your arm?!”

“It … it seemed like a smart idea at the time. I’ve only ever done it a few times,” Sanji said. “I was seventeen, okay? I haven’t done it since. It’s gone.”

“I can see them pretty clearly, Sanji—”

“Not those,” the blond said, shaking his head. “It. It’s gone.”

“What’s it?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy …”

“I already think you’re crazy, you’ve got nothing left to lose.” Zoro wanted to hold him, to pull him close, but he had told him he wouldn’t touch him until he had stopped. He could wait. He could survive a few days without his touch, or was he really that addicted to him?

“I …” Sanji sighed and leaned against the window frame, turning away from Zoro. “After a while at the Baratie, when the cooks started to call me names like ugly and fat and I don’t know, overweight and shit like that, I … I started hearing this voice.”

Zoro bit his bottom lip. “You know what they say, Sanji. About hearing voices, don’t you?”

“You think I don’t fucking know?” Sanji demanded. Zoro could see Sanji’s fist was clenched inside of his pocket. “It was just … it was kind of like having Patty and Carne right next to me twenty-four seven, telling me the same things over and over again, like a record on repeat. You’re fat, it told me. You’re ugly. You’re too thin.”

“It told you you were fat and too thin at the same time?”

“I don’t fucking know, it was fucked up. _I_ was fucked up …” Sanji trailed off. “Anyway, it kept on like that. It was like no matter what I did it wouldn’t … it just wouldn’t _stop_. I wanted it to go away and it just fucking wouldn’t. I tried everything. I started to go on a diet for about six months, hoping it'd shut up about my stupid weight. It didn’t work. I tried to make myself presentable … It didn’t work. It always found _something_ to poke at me for and when I told myself I was done listening to it try to dictate the way I lived my life, it started to talk about other things. Things I _couldn’t_ change. My hair, my eyes, my figure, my legs, my arms, my posture, the way I spoke, the sound of my voice, the way I would walk … I considered plastic surgery just to get rid of it …”

“Sanji—”

“I know it’s stupid,” Sanji cut him off. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Of course, it was never happy with me. That fucking voice just telling me all the things I did wrong, how others could do better, how Zeff would be ashamed … The only thing it seemed to like was when I was in pain, as if all my faults and all my short-comings could just disappear, leak out with the blood.” He shook his head. “I’m sick, I’m fucking sick … A fucking bodiless voice seemed to talk to me and drove me to the brink of insanity, made me change myself, made me overly-self-conscious, made me second guess everything and even though I knew somewhere, somewhere in the back of my mind that another scar on my wrist would do me no good, that I was already scarred enough, it would convince me that yeah, I was too scarred. I was so scarred, I was beyond hope so what did another line matter in the grand scheme of things?”

“How … how long has it been there?” Zoro was scared to know the answer.

“Years … fucking _years_ it’s been haunting me …” He shook his head, his hand diving for a smoke, but coming up dry. “It didn’t stop when you took me in. In fact, I think it wanted me to turn against you. It tried to tell me everything you did was out of pity, it was all for the sake of charity …”

“That’s not it, you know that, Sanji—”

“Yeah, I know.” His voice was quiet, taking on a softer tone. “It told me I was disgusting, throwing myself on you on Valentine’s … That I was weak …” Sanji held up his hand. “Do you see that mark?” he asked. “The one on my thumb? I burnt myself by accident,” he said. “When I was lighting a cigarette. I made that mark about two weeks ago. A few days after Valentine’s. And that’s the last one I’ve ever made. It’s the last one I’m ever going to make.” He turned to Zoro, tears in his eyes. “It’s gone, that fucking voice is gone now. I’m not going to hurt myself Zoro, you don’t have to worry. I … I won’t do it.”

Zoro bit his lip, as though by wearing a hole through his mouth he could stop his arms from wrapping tightly around the blond and never letting go. He managed to hold back.

Sanji mirrored Zoro’s action, causing the green-haired man to let out a tortured groan. “Sanji, you’re killing me here …”

Sanji looked at him with an emotion in his eyes that Zoro couldn’t place, but it shook him to his core. “Zoro,” he said softly, “I _really_ want to kiss you.”

Zoro felt his heart stop. Sanji was not helping his urge to give up on the deal and just hold him, just to touch him …

“Twenty-four hours,” he said. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Fuck, that’s a long time.”

“Depends on when you had your last smoke.”

Sanji gritted his teeth. “Fuck …” He turned his head away. “They’re letting me out tomorrow you know. What is it with us and spending birthdays in the hospital?” He laughed lightly.

Zoro shrugged. “Dunno, but how about we go to the cafeteria? New day, new people. New ratings.”

Sanji grinned.

* * *

 

“Does nicotine count?”

Zoro dropped his jacket on the couch, giving Sanji a strange look. They had just returned from the hospital and the entire drive there, Sanji had been silent. Now he was going on about nicotine?

“What are you talking about?”

“Does nicotine …” Sanji bit his lip. “If I have nicotine, does that count as smoking?”

“Depends on how you got it in your system,” said Zoro slowly.

Sanji rolled up his right sleeve and Zoro saw two small rectangular squares that were probably the same colour as skin, but Sanji was so pale, they stuck out like a sore thumb.

“What are those?”

“Nicotine patches.” Zoro expected him to pull his sleeve back down, but he kept it up, rolled to his elbow, the patches on his forearm. “They’re for people trying to quit smoking,” he explained. “They made me go through therapy and gave me a couple of patches, told me it was kind of like smoking, you still got the nicotine in small doses, it’s supposed to ease you off of it.” He shook his head. “I think I’m going to run out of them in less than a week, but still …”

“When was the last time you smoked?”

“I’m asking you if nicotine counts,” Sanji said. “Otherwise my answer changes.”

“Patches don’t count, when was the last time you smoked a cigarette?” asked Zoro hurriedly.

“Over forty-eight hours.”

That was all Zoro needed to wrap his arms around Sanji and pull him into a kiss.

The taste was still on Sanji’s tongue, the nicotine, the spices. Bitter, not sweet. The fact that Sanji was showing Zoro his skin, showing his arm with all of its small imperfections without a second thought, made Zoro hold him tighter, pull him even closer. He let his fingers trail down Sanji’s cheek as he gently took Sanji’s lower lip in between his own and sucked. Sanji gasped and Zoro entered his mouth, turning to stone remembering it wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck, Sanji,” he gasped, moving from the cook’s lips to his neck. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

Sanji gripped Zoro’s hair as the swordsman burrowed his head into Sanji’s neck, licking at his soft skin. Sanji let out a sigh. “I wasn’t … sure about the n-nicotine,” he said in a husky voice.

Zoro paid close attention to the way he was breathing. Was he wheezing? He was taking deep lungfuls of air, but what for? Was he just naturally breathless or was he seriously having trouble breathing? When he let out a moan as Zoro bit his neck, he knew he didn’t have to worry.

For now, Sanji’s breathing was normal. It was perfect and Zoro wanted to hear more of the sounds Sanji made without worrying about whether or not his partner could breathe.

Zoro wasn’t an idiot, he knew Sanji had a long way to go. That the blond needed to seriously go through a lot more than just nicotine patches before he was done, before he was considered safe from asthma attacks like the one that had Zoro’s heart clenching horribly. But for now, for now they were perfect like this.

Maybe Sanji hadn’t heard him before he had passed out, maybe he hadn’t acknowledged Zoro’s confession. That didn’t matter right now. All he knew was that he didn’t regret saying them, that they were true.

_Aishiteru. Aishiteru Sanji. Now hurry up and fall in love with me so I can hear you say it too._


	32. Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (WHICH IS TOTALLY CONSENTUALLY GUYS IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN ISN'T THAT BEAUTIFUL???)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the thing: updates may stall a bit. I have one more chapter that's updated and ready to for next week, but since I've kinda gotten lost in Star Trek, it's been taking up a lot of my time. I'm almost done my Star Trek story, so I kind of want to finish that before I lose steam for it. After next week, the updates will stop for a while as I finish up my coffee shop AU for Star Trek. Sorry about that, but I WILL BE BACK EVENTUALLY.

_Blackleg (God, I_ **_really_ ** _like the sound of that) Sanji’s Survival Journal, Day 3_

_It has been slightly over seventy-two hours since I last had a cigarette. I think I’m twitching, the pencil’s not straight right now, it’s jagged. I’m trembling, I know it._

_Fuck, I need to smoke! Why the hell am I writing on a stupid post-it note anyway?_

Sanji sighed and crumpled up the paper before throwing it into the recycling. He was going absolutely insane. Journals? Fuck that! He rolled up his sleeves and stared at the three patches on his arm. He needed more. He needed more or he needed something equal to the relaxation he felt with the cancer stick as Zoro called it. He was going to drive himself up the wall if he didn't get it.

“Sanji?”

“What?!” he snapped, turning to Zoro who recoiled at his sudden raised volume. Sanji pinched the bridge of his nose. “What,” he repeated in a less violent tone, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just … argh, this is driving me fucking crazy!”

“I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, Marimo?”

“You’re going to run out of patches by the time we hit Sunday, I can already tell, and that’s just three days away. You can’t rely on nicotine patches to get you off of this, you need a different fix, a quicker one.”

“Your point?” Sanji asked, feeling irritable.

“Replace your cigarettes with something else, something material or some shit like that, until the urge to smoke goes away,” Zoro said. “When I was quitting drinking, I’d pull at my hair to distract myself until the urge went away. It kept my hands occupied and my thoughts elsewhere. Replace your addiction with something else.”

“Isn’t that how you develop other habits?” Sanji asked. “Moodie used to bite her nails. To stop, she started to make small knots in her hair. She still does that.”

“Yes, but when you replace a bad habit with a slightly less bad habit, you get better, right?” Zoro reasoned. “I don’t know, watch anime until the urge to smoke stops.”

“I could never do that!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because then I’d have to finish the episode, which means that I’d have to watch the next one because the kind of anime I watch doesn’t give you much of a choice! There are so many fucking cliffhangers! On top of that, do you have any idea how many anime characters smoke? Hell, there’s a guy who can turn his body into smoke in one of them!”

“Is that he one with the rubber man?”

“Yes,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes.

“What was the name of that show again?”

“Zoro, that’s not the point!”

“But why are you watching crack like that? I mean there’s that freaky swordsman who just let himself be cut up into pieces by that guy with the feather in his hat—”

“Zoro, focus!” Sanji said. He dug into his pocket only to come up dry again. “Fuck, fine, say your method works, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Zoro shrugged. “I don’t know, what distracts you?”

Sanji thought about it. What _did_ distract him? He had never really thought about it before, the habit of smoking was something he always did in the background whenever he did anything, it felt weird not to cook without the cigarette hanging between his lips now. It was like an ever-present activity for him that he was always doing just a bit of, on the side.

Zoro distracted him. He distracted him a lot actually.

But he couldn’t very well say that, now could he?

“Fighting,” he said instead. Fighting _did_ distract him, especially fighting against Zoro.

“So you’re going to pick a fight whenever you want to smoke?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“So? You got a problem with that?” Sanji demanded through gritted teeth.

“No, it’s not a problem at all,” Zoro said. “In fact, I’m in the mood to fight. You craving a cigarette, cook?”

Sanji grit his teeth. “Desperately.”

  
_CLINK_!

Sanji deflected the blade using his leg. He pushed forward to parry against Zoro’s attack, but his mind was distracted.

He still wanted the cigarette, he still wanted the smoke in his lungs.

He _knew_ it wasn’t good for him, the trip to the hospital was proof enough, but still …

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to strike Zoro down using a kick to his chest.

The swordsman backed up and readied his swords as though there was nothing else to it. Of course he wasn’t as tired as Sanji was, he had stamina, proven by his fight against Sanji at Partys. Just thinking about it made Sanji shiver with excitement. He went for another attack when he stopped, coughing into his arm.

Zoro seized immediately, sheathing his swords. “You okay?” He put a hand on Sanji’s shoulder and frowned. “How’s your breathing?”

Sanji slapped his hand away, glaring. His intimidation act was cut short by another fit of coughs.

He pushed at Zoro’s chest, to distance himself from the man. His throat was sore, like there was something stuck that, unless he managed to cough it up, would choke him to death. He could feel it, climbing up his esophagus, but just when he thought it would come out, it slid back down. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“They gave you an inhaler, right?”

“This isn’t an attack,” Sanji snapped. “Just … I don’t know, mucus or something.” He coughed again, but nothing came out. Fuck it, he could live with that annoying thing in his throat. He was doing just fine anyway.

“Strenuous activity should be refrained from being performed until you get your asthma under a manageable state. At least, that’s what the pamphlet says,” Zoro told him. It was weird, watching Zoro go all doctor on him. “We should probably sit down.”

Sanji didn’t say anything as his boyfriend guided him to the couch. He sat down, his knees giving out from under him.

He didn’t care about the fact that he couldn’t fight with Zoro anymore, that didn’t matter to him, not right now. What mattered was that such a small thing— a tiny little coughing fit— was enough to make the swordsman stop. He hadn’t stopped when they were training, hadn’t stopped when Sanji had keeled over from a low blow to his gut, hadn’t stopped when Sanji had been forced to the floor numerous times and had a dizzy headache. No, instead he had told Sanji to get the fuck up and keep going.

He didn’t want to be weak, not in Zoro’s eyes.

Sanji ran his fingers through his hair, supporting himself on his elbows. Why did he feel so _goddamn emotional_ recently? He blamed it on the asthma. Was that what the tightness in his chest had been?

“ _Hetalia’_ s on,” said Zoro. “You wanna watch?”

“I’m good,” Sanji replied. As he took a deep breath, he felt his ribs constrict. The pain went all the way down his spine as he sucked in a breath, travelling along his spinal chord. He felt as though his lungs were collapsing with each breath he took.

The blond took long breaths, deep ones, trying to ease the pain. It hurt his head, it hurt his body _everywhere_. “It’s just fucking asthma,” he muttered. “Why is this so hard?”

Zoro was frowning. He looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t, like he wanted to do something but couldn’t.

Sanji waited a few minutes until the tightness eased and his throat felt clearer. He took a deep breath before nodding slowly. “I’m okay.”

Zoro shook his head. “Fuck, you couldn’t have just been some traumatized person?”

Sanji bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming that he _was_ a traumatized person.

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant …” Zoro shook his head. “It’s just … with trauma, I can talk you through it, you know? I can try and get inside your head and ease you out, like I did before. This … with this, I can’t do that. I can’t …” He held up a very child-friendly looking brochure that explained asthma in brief. “This fucking thing is useless, it just talks about bronchioles and shit like that. What am I supposed to do? How can I even do anything?” He looked helpless. Turning his head away, Zoro jut out his chin as though to look more prideful. “Fuck, if you’re in pain … I want to help,” he said softly. “But I mean … what can I do?”

Zoro _had_ helped him, more than he’d ever know.

His nightly visits to the Baratie had been the highlight of Sanji’s days when he was waitering. He never once regretted them, despite the severity of his punishments on those nights. The rape was not Zoro’s fault, it would’ve happened eventually, that Zoro was there through it made it better. He didn’t regret that Zoro saw him when he was at his lowest. If he hadn’t seen, who knew where they'd be?

Sanji had come to see his life as before and after Zoro. 

The nightmare that first night in Zoro’s apartment had been so vivid, and despite Zoro’s awkwardness, he had been exactly what Sanji had needed. He stayed up at odd hours just to listen to Sanji ramble on in the kitchen while making some dish or another, or sometimes Sanji would forgo all conversation and just hum. Though Zoro was tired, he had never slept during that time. The occasional comments while Sanji was cooking was proof of that, even if it was the fourth night in a row that they had been in the kitchen from 2 in the morning till 5.

They were _nakama_.

Taking him to Partys, going to kendo tournaments, playing all of Sanji’s stupid word games … Zoro was a life-saver, even if he didn’t know it.

Sanji smirked. “Kiss me.”

The swordsman’s dark grey eyes widened. “W-what?”

A flush rose on the cook’s pale cheeks. “Never mind—”

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

“I asked you are you sure?” Zoro repeated. “Do you really want me to kiss you?”

Sanji blushed. “You’re fucking embarrassing!”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Well, I mean … if you …” Sanji turned a shade darker. “If you want.”

And that’s how Zoro pulled Sanji by his chin and kissed him softly.

Sanji had learnt to classify Zoro’s kisses under different categories.

There were kisses like their first, when Zoro was soft and hesitant. Those barely lasted more than three seconds. They were sweet, a tad nervous and awkward, but not entirely unpleasant. They were the quick ones Zoro gave him right before either of them left the house.

There were kisses like their second kiss, slow, soft and just a tad hot and sensual. They didn’t rush anything, they didn’t demand anything. They were usually initiated because of a romantic moment and even after the kiss was over, their lips would linger for a moment before pulling away but physical contact always remained.

There were kisses like the one on Valentine’s Day, that started fierce and stayed fierce before slowing down to something soft and sweet and tame. They had only shared two of those, on Valentine’s Day and on his birthday. Those were the kinds that made him feel like he was burning, as though, regardless of contact, he’d never get quite enough of it.

There were gentle kisses that turned hot thanks to Zoro, like when playing the Nervous Game. It bordered on a make-out session, but fell short.

This kiss though … This kiss was like _that night_ , when Sanji had initially backed out. It was slow, soft, and sweet. It was hesitant as Zoro licked his bottom lip gently, pulling him closer. He kept his hand on the blond’s chin, keeping him close. At the same time though, these weren’t lazy kisses. Though there was no feverish, primal need, it was as though Zoro was trying to speak without words. He wrapped an arm around Sanji’s waist and pulled him into his lap, but the kiss stayed slow. Zoro touched him carefully, not nervous, just deliberate.

His hands never went to his chest, he avoided it like the plague, instead going to Sanji’s arms, his hands, running along his back, his waist. He never touched Sanji’s legs either. Zoro wrapped a hand around Sanji’s neck, slowly guiding him towards him.

When they finally separated to breathe, Sanji’s heart was racing.

“I have an idea,” Zoro said slowly.

Well, that was good, because Sanji’s brain had just jumped out the window. “Hmm?”

“How … how about …”

Sanji opened his eyes to see Zoro licking his lips. They were pressed forehead to forehead, his breath was on the blond’s face.

“Spit it out, Marimo,” Sanji chuckled softly.

Zoro laced their fingers together, and laughed. “I’m trying to be serious right now.”

“Hmm.” Sanji nestled his head in Zoro’s neck, whistling against his skin. The swordsman giggled, gently pulling him away.

“That’s no fair, you know I’m ticklish.”

“S’not my fault,” the cook grinned.

“I’m trying to tell you something.”

“I’m listening,” Sanji insisted, humming a melody into the tanned skin, letting his free hand thread through the hair at the nape of the swordsman’s neck.

“You’re distracting me, you little punk,” Zoro said.

“Then don’t get distracted.”

“Kind of hard to do when a gorgeous blond is in my lap, don’t you think?”

“Bad planning on your part.”

Zoro gently guided Sanji out of his neck and kissed him. “How … about,” he whispered against Sanji’s lips, “I become your drug?”

“That’s all you had to say?” Sanji giggled. “And yet it took you so long…”

“Well you kept interrupting me,” Zoro hummed back. “Had to keep your mouth occupied.” He smiled softly. “So your answer?”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t hear a Goddamn word I said, did you?”

“ _Maybe_ …”

Zoro laughed, pulling away from the cook. “I’m serious. No more distractions. Whenever you want to smoke, find me. For every cigarette you want, I’ll give you a kiss. Replace your addiction with something that isn’t necessarily bad.”

“You just want to kiss me more,” Sanji accused.

“You’re inexperienced, you think kissing you is pleasant?” Zoro asked him. He rolled his eyes when he saw Sanji’s eyes drop to the ground. “I’m kidding! Well, no, you’re still not that great at it, but I mean …” He searched for words, scrambling to find the right way to put it so he didn’t sound like a jackass.

Sanji laughed.

“Shut up!” Zoro snapped. “It’s just … Fuck, argh!” He ran his fingers through his hair in a way that sort of reminded Sanji of mowing grass. _He’d probably get more pissed off if I say that …_ “It’s … I don’t know, it’s refreshing. You don’t seem to be concerned about that, you’re …” He shook his head. “It’s complicated, but the point is kissing you doesn’t suck.”

Sanji smirked. “Wonderful Marimo, you sure have a way with words.”

“Shut up.”

He was blushing. How cute. He reminded Sanji of a tomato, with the green hair making up the small leaves. Another analogy the moss-head would kill him for.

“So let me get this straight, if I may,” said Sanji slowly. “You want to transfer my addiction from my cigarettes to your kisses?”

“It didn’t sound that screwed up in my head, but yeah …”

“Then Zoro, you have to kiss me again,” Sanji replied with a smirk.

Zoro did.

And it was fucking amazing.

  
“So it was asthma?”

“Yeah, apparently, smoking’s bad for you. They said it was a miracle I didn’t get cancer. Not everyone who smokes get asthma, but it does increase the chances of it.”

“I thought it was something you were born with,” said Usopp, confused.

“It can be,” Sanji said. “It’s genetic, apparently. But if you have it when you’re young, you can gradually grow out of it, I suppose you could say? You only get symptoms in special cases. You can get it when you’re older though too, hence why I’ve got a stupid pump in my pocket now. I don’t know exactly how it works, but if I avoid triggers, I should be fine. After a while, I can return to my usual life-style, I just can’t smoke.” He grit his teeth at the thought.

“Thank God,” said Nami. “You really had us worried there Sanji!”

“I’m sorry to have caused you distress, my lady.” Sanji flashed her an apologetic smile.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know,” said Zoro. “This bastard was apparently showing symptoms since _January_ and he kept smoking, even though it irritated him. When you start having coughing fits while smoking, that means you stop!”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “You’ve never tried it, you don’t know how addicting it is.”

“You guys are great for each other’s health!” said Luffy with a laugh.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Zoro demanded. “This guy drives me up the wall all the fucking time, I can’t catch a break! He’s nearly given me multiple heart attacks, not to mention all the headaches, restlessness and insomnia! He fucking turned me gay!”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to fall in love with me.”

Zoro blushed, turning in the other direction, before deciding he was more pissed than embarrassed, glaring at Luffy. “He’s the most unhealthy thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re saying it’s _good_?”

“Well, I mean,” Luffy said, “after you met Sanji, you stopped drinking, right?”

“Cause the prices on their alcohol is fucking ridiculous,” Zoro grumbled. “I mean really, martinis should not be that much and there’s no way vodka could ever be worth over 10 00 yen.”

“Just cause you always drank crappy beer, doesn’t mean we always served it,” Sanji shot back. “You’re no better you know. You think I’ve been sleeping? Not to mention how rough you are during training, do you have any idea how fucking sore I am when it’s over?”

“But Zoro, Sanji basically saved your liver, and Sanji, you probably would’ve never gone to a hospital without Zoro,” Luffy pointed out.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he fucking pisses me off,” they both said in unison.

Usopp stared at them in confusion. “Aren’t you dating?”

“Doesn’t mean we have to like each other,” Zoro grumbled. “I’m allowed to dislike him on some days, aren’t I? You can’t honestly tell me Kaya never gets on your nerves."

Usopp grinned. “She doesn’t.”

“That’s cause you got the fucking princess,” Zoro snapped. “I got the dragon who breathes nicotine.”

“Don’t talk about Kaya that way!” both Sanji and Usopp said in unison. “It’s rude,” Sanji finished.

“Okay, what about you Nami? You can’t tell me you love everything Luffy does.”

“It’s not that I don’t love everything he does, it’s just that I don’t _like_ everything he does,” said Nami slowly. She held Luffy’s hand and gave him a smile. “But it’s a really small list, I swear.”

“So in translation, you hate parts of him?”

“God Zoro, no!” Nami said, shaking her head. “Hate … I don’t _hate_ anything about him, there are just some parts I don’t like as much as others.” She shrugged when that looked flickered in her eyes. “How about we play a little game?”

Sanji wanted to tell her that was his line, after all, _he_ was the one who had all the little word games up his sleeve, but he refrained. It’d be impolite to say such a thing to a beauty like Nami.

“What kind of game?” asked Luffy, looking excited. Then again, the straw hat got excited about everything, meat especially.

“It’s an insulting game.”

Sanji paled. The strange voice in his head was gone, yes, it didn’t haunt him as much but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still insecure. The insecurities were building, making a mountain that was about to have an avalanche any second, knowing that this was something that could break the fragile balance the relationship he and Zoro had built. Zoro seemed to notice this and squeezed his hand.

“I think we’re good Nami,” he told her. He sent her a look as though she should know better but the redhead shook her head.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that,” she said hurriedly. “It’s more like … an observation game more than anything. Pointing out little things that the other does to get on your nerves a bit. Like pet peeves.”

Pet peeves? Sanji was pretty sure he could deal with pet peeves. Those were little things he could change.Though he _was_ biting a hole into his bottom lip, twitching for another cigarette. “Why’s it a game? Sounds like a conversation you have to piss someone off really.”

“Basically all you gotta do is complain. You take turns so if I turned to Luffy and said, I don’t know, I don’t like how he wears that hat with everything he owns—”

“Nami!” Luffy looked down at the ground with a pout. “You’re being mean …”

“I don’t mean it,” Nami said quickly. “Really, I don’t, I love your hat, you know that.” She bit her lip. “I mean, you don’t have to wear it when we’re in bed though, you know that, right?”

“I like it!”

“I know you do—”

“Shanks gave it to me and everything!”

“Luffy, we’re not having this talk right now,” Nami said through gritted teeth. “Besides, I didn’t say I hated your hat, I just think there’s a time and a place for wearing it and while you fuck me into the mattress is not one of them.”

Zoro gagged.

“Oh, hush you!” Nami snapped. “Anyway, so I’d say something like that and then Luffy would say something he didn’t particularly like about me. Like, I dunno … something.”

“How you’re a nag?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t talk about Nami like that,” Sanji snapped, frowning.

Nami turned to Luffy expectantly. “Well? _Do_ you think I’m a nag?”

“Um …” Luffy bit his bottom lip. “Kinda …”

Nami frowned.

“I can’t lie, I’m not Usopp!”

“Hey!”

Nami sighed. “I know you can’t.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I guess I shouldn’t really call it a game, more like a test of strength in the sense that, the couple that can name the most things without wringing each other’s throats is the victor.”

“You’re asking for a death match, you realize, don’t you?” Sanji asked. “And besides, Kaya isn't here, even if Usopp calls her on the phone the fear of bodily harm is eliminated.”

“I was actually going to visit her,” said Usopp. “Though I don’t think we’ll be playing your … ‘game’. I think we’ll do fine without it.”

“You’re just scared she’ll say something about your goggles,” Zoro teased as Usopp picked his bag up and went to the door.

“I am not!”

“Liar, liar, your goggles are on fire!”

_SLAM!_

Zoro laughed while Sanji rolled his eyes.

“So, you wanna play?” asked Nami. “You and Sanji against me and Luffy.”

Zoro gave Sanji a look. “You want to?”

Sanji shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” said Nami. “How about you guys go into the kitchen and me and Luffy will stay in the living room?”

“Luffy and I,” Zoro said tiredly. He tugged at Sanji’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Sanji followed him into the kitchen.

There was a beat of silence, then—

“You play with the drawstrings of your pants.”

Zoro blinked. “What?”

“You pull and play with the drawstrings of your sweatpants,” Sanji repeated. “And it’s very annoying. You want to know why?”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“Because it almost makes the same sound as someone rubbing on a zipper.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like the fact that I play with the drawstrings of my pants because it _almost_ sounds like someone rubbing a zipper?”

It wasn’t until he repeated it to him that Sanji realized how stupid that sounded, but it was true. It _did_ annoy him.

“Yes,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

“Okay, fine, my turn then Curly Brow.”

Sanji told himself to calm down. This was Zoro, he wasn’t going to hurt him. This was just light teasing, like they usually did. Banter. He could handle banter. He just couldn’t let himself overthink it, he’d be fine.

“You are _way_ too attractive.”

Sanji blinked. “What?”

“I mean, God, it’s not _fair_ ,” Zoro said. “The amount of times you turn me on in a single day is ridiculous. It’s like I’m in high school or something. It drives me fucking _insane_. Just the sound of your voice …” He took a step closer to Sanji and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “God, it makes me hot …”

Sanji pushed at Zoro’s chest. The swordsman let him go. “You’re fucking embarrassing, you know that? How do you even say those kinds of things? Don’t you feel any embarrassment?”

“Course,” Zoro said. “I’d be an idiot if I didn’t feel embarrassed.”

“Then why the fuck do you say them?”

“Because it’s worth it to see how embarrassed _you_ get.”

“You get horny a lot,” Sanji noted. “It’s kind of irritating.”

“That just means I’m healthy.”

“No, that means you need to get laid.”

“I would if I could, _but_ my boyfriend’s a tease so …” Zoro trailed off.

Was that what this was about? Was he not satisfying enough for Zoro? They were moving slow, and Sanji preferred it that way. He was anxious, for reasons beyond the cooks. Part of it was because he _did_ want it, he just didn’t want Zoro to find out how bad he was at it. Sanji had only gone down on Zoro once, and other than that, it was always Zoro pushing for a little more, but never too much. He got the signal when Sanji stopped feeling comfortable. They had felt each other up, but rarely ever did the pants come off, literally.

Sanji bit his bottom lip. “I thought you said you didn't mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?”

“That …” Sanji blushed red. “That we’re not … doing _it_.”

Zoro’s eyes widened. “I don’t,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t mind at all.”

“But you’re so …” Sanji tried to find a word, something to describe the state Zoro seemed to constantly be in. “You’re just so … pent up? Excited? Overtly sexual? In heat?”

“Not always,” Zoro said. “Besides, isn’t that normal? I’m dating an attractive guy,” Zoro pointed out. “It’d be stupid if I didn’t lust after him.”

“Have you ever even done it with a guy before?”

“Well no, but you know, the internet teaches you wonderful things.”

Sanji stared at him. “I don’t know if I should feel disgusted that you looked that up, or flattered that I turned you gay that you had to look that up.”

“How about flattered?”

Sanji shook his head. “No, I’m going with disgusted. Oh God, tell me you erased the history! If I press the back button, and I’m going to end up seeing some gay porno?”

“I didn’t _watch_ anything,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes. “Look, it’s my turn, isn’t it?” He seemed to think for a moment before he spoke. “You don’t understand me when I speak French.”

“I thought we went over this, I only know Japanese and Latin fluently.”

“Yeah, I know but still …” Zoro smirked. “ _Si tu pouvais me comprendre, t’auras aucun doute que tu es tellement beau dans mes yeux. Tu pouvais savoir que je t’aime, mais, malheureusement tu ne sais pas._ ”

“When you talk French it annoys me,” Sanji blurted. “I swear if you’re cursing me behind my back, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“How can I curse you behind your back if I’m looking at your face?”

“You’re _so_ annoying!”

Zoro smirked.

It wasn’t fair how sexy he was when he did that. Sanji pulled the swordsman by his shirt and dragged him into a kiss, much to the Marimo’s surprise.

Zoro’s lips parted in his shock and Sanji took control of the kiss, pressing him up against the kitchen wall. The taste on his lips … The taste of _Zoro_ was something that Sanji realized nicotine could never compare with.

When they parted, Zoro gave him a funny look. “Craving a cigarette?”

“Yeah,” Sanji lied. “Sorry, just … snuck up on me,” he muttered.

“Hey,” Zoro said in a soft voice, running his fingers along Sanji’s cheek. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To be randomly molested?”

“No, that’s what the subway’s for, I was going to say randomly kissed, but I won’t complain if you suddenly decide to defile me,” said Zoro, punctuating his remark with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

“Fuck, you’re a pain.”

He felt a bit guilty, considering he and Zoro were supposed to be playing a game and instead Sanji had kissed the idiot swordsman. He wanted to apologize to Nami but just as he exited the kitchen, he saw her in a lip-lock with Luffy.

_Well then …_

Sanji grabbed his blazer off the couch and hissed at Zoro to stop snickering at them.

When they got back in the car, Sanji melted into his seat and ignored the way Zoro fought with the GPS.

At this rate, he’d become addicted to Zoro’s kisses in no time.

  
Sanji knocked on Zoro’s door, rocking on the balls of his feet. God, he felt stupid.

It had been two days filled with kisses in random places, pulling Zoro into the bathroom while grocery shopping, mauling him in the middle of the highway, nearly letting his food burn while he let himself be pressed up against the counter, even tasting Zoro’s minty freshness right after he finished rinsing out his mouth. You’d think Sanji would get over it, but he hadn’t. He just couldn’t get enough. The need for nicotine was still there, sure, but Sanji had hidden it under layers and layers of want for his boyfriend.

Zoro answered the door, half-awake. He blinked a few times at Sanji. The blond gave him a sheepish smile.

“Um …”

“It’s three in the fucking morning. Tell me you don't want a cigarette.”

Sanji let out a forced laugh.

Zoro sighed, but the grin on his face gave him away. He wrapped his arms around Sanji, pulling him into his room. He slammed the door shut and instantly pressed Sanji up against it, kissing him fiercely.

Their teeth knocked against each other, Sanji’s head hit the door with a _thud_ , and hands forgot how to move properly.

It was hot and desperate. It was demanding and ruthless. It was … it was fucking _perfect_.

Sanji’s hands traveled through Zoro’s green hair, fisting it tightly. Zoro’s hands held his hips in place, pressed up against the wooden door. He moved from his lips to his ear, down to his neck. Zoro placed several soft kisses down the slope of the cook’s neck, eliciting a gasp. The swordsman’s hands moved from his hips to his arms, running up and down them before one of his hands slipped under Sanji’s shirt slowly, almost hesitantly. The feel of Zoro’s hot fingers on his skin made Sanji moan, tossing his head back.

“Fuck, you’re addicting,” Zoro said, letting his hand wander higher on Sanji’s chest, palming his nipples. Sanji arched into him, thrusting forward slightly. God he was so hard … he wanted it so badly … “You really like those cigarettes, don’t you?”

Sanji blushed, his fingers curling around the fabric of Zoro’s shirt. “Not … not the cigarettes,” he gasped as Zoro bit him softly.

“No?” Zoro hummed against his skin. He hovered over Sanji’s lips, so close, but not touching. “Then what is it that you want?”

“Is now really the time, Marimo?” The cook tried to close the space between them, reaching out, but Zoro backed away. “Fucking bastard, let me kiss you.”

“Not yet,” Zoro teased. “I want to hear you say it.”

“You know what I’m going to say,” Sanji snapped.

Zoro’s breath ghosted over Sanji’s ear, hot and overwhelming. “I want to hear it.” His fingers gently brushed over Sanji’s lips. They were swollen and heated, his whole body felt like it was on fire. “From your mouth.”

“Fuck, Zoro, _please_ ,” Sanji begged, trying to pull the swordsman forward.

“Tell me.”

“Zoro …”

“Tell me, Sanji,” Zoro hissed. “Tell me what you’re addicted to and I’ll blow you.”

Sanji’s eyes widened.

They had never done something so extreme before, not since a while before Christmas. True to his word, they had never crossed that barrier. Heated make-out sessions had become the norm between them, but Zoro never pressed him for more, never asked. It had felt good, to know that the pressure of sex had been removed from their relationship, but now Sanji found himself wanting. Remembering the way Zoro had reacted to it, he wondered what it would be like.

“Fuck …”

“I bet you’d taste amazing,” said the swordsman. He could _feel_ his smirk against his skin.

Sanji’s voice was caught in his throat, it was like he was choking on air, but this wasn’t a panic attack. This wasn’t asthma, this was … Sanji raked his fingers against Zoro’s shirt, trying to dig his nails into the skin. Zoro let out a hiss of approval. “Shit,” the blond hissed. “I …”

“Can you imagine that?” Zoro’s voice had gotten lower, whispering into Sanji’s ear, husky and low. “My hot, warm mouth, wrapped around your cock? I don’t have a gag reflex, I could take you whole. Deep throat you.”

The shirt he slept in felt too hot, the long sleeves he wore felt stupid as it clung to his sweaty body. He gulped, gasping for air. 

“I’d wrap my lips around you, swallow you whole. I’ll try not to bite, but I can’t promise anything.” Zoro’s fingers began to trace along Sanji’s skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake. “I bet you’d feel good. So good in my mouth, and the sounds you’d make … You know how I love your voice. I’d make you scream. I’d bring you close to the edge, make you beg for it.”

Sanji whimpered, his nails digging into the flesh of Zoro’s skin. His breathing was coming out irregularly, his heart was in his throat, pounding.

“And when I made you cum, I’d swallow.”

Sanji gulped.

“Every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated each of his words with a thrust forward, the friction slowly killing Sanji. “I bet you’d taste so good on my tongue. I’d lick it all up for sure, make sure nothing spills …” His fingers toyed with the drawstrings of Sanji’s sweatpants, tugging slightly. Sanji moved along with the motion. “And all you’d have to do is tell me what you’re addicted to.”

“Z-Zoro …”

“Yes?” That cocky bastard was smirking.

“I’m not saying it again.”

“I’ll take it.”

With that, Zoro turned them around and slowly backed Sanji up onto the bed. He pushed at his chest lightly and Sanji allowed himself to fall backwards onto the sheets. Licking his lips, he watched as Zoro got on the bed himself, pulling at his shirt. In the dark of the room, Zoro’s body was lightly outlined by the light coming in from the open curtains, bathed in moonlight. Moonlight, Sanji realized, was a really crappy light source when you wanted to drool at your boyfriend’s abs.

Once the shirt was off, Zoro crumpled it in his hands and bit his lip. “I uh …” He chuckled softly. “Alright, so … don’t want to ruin the mood here or anything, but I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, so if I do this wrong … just tell me, alright? We can stop at any time.” He sat back on his legs and tilted his head. “Provided you want me to start?”

“H-have I not made that obvious?” Sanji hated the way his voice trembled. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves, anticipation, but he knew it wasn’t fear. He trusted Zoro.

“I want you to say it,” Zoro insisted. “And this isn’t an ego thing, I just … I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to. If you just want to make out, we’ll just make out. No pressure.” He grinned. “Besides, I just talked up a huge game … might be embarrassing if I can’t follow through.”

“Zoro,” Sanji said, finding Zoro’s eyes in the darkness, “I want this. Please suck my dick.”

The swordsman grinned sheepishly. “Alright.”

Sanji backed up on the bed so that he was pressed up agains the back board of the bed, when he caught sight of himself in that Godawful full-length mirror.

The blond’s blood ran cold. When Zoro came closer, he pulled his legs in on himself and shook his head. He looked so _dirty_ in the mirror’s reflection.

“Hey,” Zoro tilted his chin up so that they were eye to eye. “Do you want me to move it?”

“No, it’s stupid—”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, it’s not stupid,” Zoro insisted. “Do you want me to move it?”

Sanji stared at the mirror. It was dark, hard to see his reflection anyway. It was distorted from the poor lighting. It couldn’t bother him _that_ much. He just had to avoid looking at it. He wasn’t about to make Zoro do some interior-decorating just so that Sanji didn’t have to see his disgusting face.

“It’s your fault I’m a fucking mess. If you back out now, I’m going to kill you.”

Zoro smirked. “Whatever you say.” He sat in Sanji’s lap, and tossed his shirt to the side, painting his neck with kisses.

“Thought you said you were going to blow me.”

“I did, didn’t it?” Zoro bit at the skin at the neck gently, ran his tongue over the slight bruise that had formed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do more.” He rocked his hips into Sanji, kissing along the slope of his neck, biting into his collarbone lightly.

Sanji giggled, bringing Zoro’s lips to his own and kissing him.

Zoro’s hands never strayed from Sanji’s hips, keeping him in place, but his body pressed him against the headboard, and the sounds he was making worried him. He bit his lip, trying to keep it in, but it escape anyway.

“I like the sounds you make,” Zoro whispered. “Let me hear them.”

Sanji melted into the kisses, raking his fingers along Zoro’s chest. The swordsman shivered beneath his hands, practically trembling. Sanji lost himself in the other’s touch, until Zoro moved from his lips to his neck, and down to his collar. He slithered down Sanji’s body, until he was at his pants.

Zoro let out a nervous chuckle as he slowly pulled back Sanji’s pants. The cook kept his eyes on the swordsman, scared that he might catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

“ _Oh_!” Sanji let out a gasp as Zoro began to suck him through the material of his underwear, his teeth lightly grazing along the underside of his cock. He jerked at the sudden touch, gripping the sheets on either side of him. Zoro chuckled, and continued, sucking at him through the fabric, so close, but not quite touching him. It was hot, and wet and he felt cold when Zoro removed his mouth, the wet of the cloth sending shivers down his spine.

Sanji bit his arm, trying to hold back his sounds when Zoro climbed back up his body and pulled his arm away. “Let me hear you. Please?”

Sanji jerked upwards when Zoro pushed against him, and a sudden cry escaped him.

“Just like that. I want to hear you, just like that.”

Sanji wasn’t sure if Zoro knew this, but it was fucking _embarrassing_ to make the noises he was making. He didn’t have any idea how loud he was going to be, or what would come out his mouth even, if they were words at all. His lip was bleeding from trying to bite down on it, so he let it go and the sounds he made _had_ to alert the neighbours. It was a shitty apartment, shitty, thin walls.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” Zoro said, wrapping his hand around him and pulling gently. Sanji’s hips raised with the motion. “I don’t ever want you to hold back. Not around me.” He kissed Sanji’s forehead softly. “You’re safe with me, okay?”

Sanji nodded, feeling something coil in his stomach. He watched as Zoro went back down on his body, and wrapped his mouth around him.

“FUCK!”

Zoro’s mouth was so warm, and hot and tight around him. He squirmed, overwhelmed. Hislegs went to kick outwards, but Zoro held him back, trapping his legs underneath his hands. It would not have been sexy to give him a concussion from just his mouth. He wasn’t even doing anything, Sanji was just in his mouth, at the back of his throat. Zoro was breathing slowly, around him, Sanji could feel each of his breaths.

“Shit, Zoro, you don’t have to— _aw, fuck_ ,” he hissed as Zoro’s tongue wrapped around him, wet and a little rough. He reached out to pull Zoro off of him, scared he was choking him, but instead his fingers tightened and he pulled.

Sanji let go instantly. “Sorry, I—”

Zoro moved off his cock with a slight pop, and shook his head. “Do that,” he said, placing Sanji’s fingers back in his hair. “I like it.” His voice was husky and deep, and it was killing the blond. “Pull it. Hard, if you want. I’ll tell if you it’s too much.”

“O-okay,” Sanji said shakily.

It was not enough to brace himself when Zoro took him in again. He really didn’t have a gag reflex, as he took him to the base. The sounds he was making were obscene and Sanji’s fingers were turning white. His hips arched up as Zoro began to bob, sucking around his cock.

He had no control. This was like nothing he had done before, and Zoro was so _good_ at it, to his surprise. His teeth came out for an instant and Sanji whimpered, but Zoro quickly realized his mistake.

Sanji didn’t know what it was. If it was the slurping sounds, or the feeling of Zoro’s mouth around him, or the overwhelming situation of it all, or the texture of Zoro’s hair beneath his fingers, seeing the large, dominating man lap at his cock like it was the greatest thing he had ever tasted, or the intensity of the moment, but a tightly wound coil inside of him was starting to set in his stomach.

“Stop,” he choked out. “Zoro, you have to stop, I’m … fuck, I think I’m going to pass out!”

Zoro did not stop. He took him even more, doubling his efforts. He began to hum to a song they had heard on the radio earlier that day. The vibrations had Sanji convulsing, his legs trembling. Instinctively, they tried to shut around Zoro’s head. Zoro didn’t move, didn’t stop. He kept going, and then the coil snapped.

He thrust forward, unable to stop himself, and true to his word, Zoro swallowed it all. He felt it as Zoro swallowed, before sitting back and licking his lips. He stuck out his tongue. “Not bad, a bit salty, but not bad,” he mused.

Zoro’s face was red, from the effort, the crushing force of Sanji’s legs, or breathlessness, Sanji didn’t know.

“Did I suffocate you?”

Zoro shrugged. “I’m good with my tongue, I’m used to it.”

His legs felt heavy, as if he couldn’t move. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to cam his racing heart.

“You look so fucking sexy when you cum,” Zoro told him in a hoarse voice. “Kind of makes me want to do it again.”

“ _Again_?” Sanji croaked out. He could barely handle it the first time and Zoro thought he could go through it again? Was he fucking insane? He slapped at him playfully and the swordsman chuckled.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror as Zoro laughed.

Sanji’s cheeks were flushed red, his eyes half-lidded. His hair was in a disarray, though somehow, he still managed to keep a single eye covered. His clothes stuck to him in his sweaty state. He looked like a mess. But there was something else, something in his eyes that Sanji was sure wasn’t there before. He wouldn’t say he liked his reflection, he didn’t and he got the feeling he never would, but right now, in this moment, he didn’t mind it.

Zoro leaned over Sanji’s body, pressing his forehead against his. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he said softy.

“Then do it,” Sanji told him.

“You don’t mind?” Zoro asked. “Your cum …”

“You swallowed it all, didn’t you?”

Zoro grinned widely and kissed him, pressing him against the headboard even more so.

The feel of Zoro under his fingertips, his hot skin, the scars, the muscle, Sanji was ready to melt all over again.

He bit his lip and looked away from him, trying to catch his breath. “Is it always like that?” he asked.

Zoro smirked. “Sometimes, if you’re doing it with the right person.”

Sanji nodded. “Am … am I the right person?”

Zoro gave him a smile. “You’re the only person.”

Sanji stared at him in wonder. “O-only?”

“First person I’ve ever done that for,” Zoro said. “And you’re the only one I want to do it for.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t mind if I were the only one for you too, but …” He trailed off. “I know it’s not like that.”

A stone seemed to sink in Sanji’s stomach. He felt horrible. Zoro was … Zoro was nothing like Sanji had expected, but everything he wanted. He wished he could turn back time, go back to before, before the cooks had ruined him, before this whole fucking mess started. He wished he could meet Zoro under different circumstances. Maybe meet him as an ordinary customer. Maybe they’d have been great friends. Maybe then Zoro … maybe then Zoro could’ve been …

Everything Zoro was doing for him, it was his first time. He had no doubt he had done things with women, he had kissed them, had probably fucked a few, there was no way someone as hot as Zoro could be a virgin, had dated a couple, even if Usopp claimed it wasn’t many. But everything he did with Sanji was a first time, doing the same things over again but with a man. He wondered if Zoro preferred it that way or if he missed the soft, smooth skin of a woman.

Sanji closed his eyes and wanted to pretend that everything they did was his first too. Zoro had already stolen his first kiss, first relationship, first friend even. But the one thing Sanji wished he could give Zoro, he couldn’t. Because those bastards had taken it.

How different would it be if Zoro had gotten to him first? If Zoro had been his first time? God he wished it had been that way.

“Hey, listen. I don’t want you regretting anything we’ve done, or anything you’ve done. Your past fucking sucks, we both know that, but it is the past,” Zoro whispered. “Though it was under unfortunate circumstances, I don’t know if we would’ve become like this if the situation had changed. So, I hate to say it, but I’m glad it brought you to me.” He kissed his forehead lightly.

Sanji bit his lip. “I just … I feel like I should be able to give you more.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Zoro promised. “Really.”

“But I want to do something.” Sanji eyed Zoro’s pants. “I could—”

“Hey, no, not like that,” Zoro said, pushing his hands away. “You don’t have to repay me just cause I made you orgasm. Sex isn’t payment. I’m kind of tired anyway.” He sat up straighter in the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe we should just shower, call it a night?”

“But—”

“If you want to suck me off just cause you came, then you can forget about it,” Zoro said. “This relationship isn’t about making you want sex again, understand me? It’s you getting comfortable with it, if you want to be. And learning that sex isn’t … it isn’t anything other than something two people do when they want to. When they _both_ want to. It’s not a reward system, or an obligation, or a debt or anything like that. There’s no scoreboard for things like orgasms.”

Sanji got up from the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll get going then—”

“Use my shower,” Zoro said. He nodded towards his bathroom door. “I’ll wait till you’re done.”

When Sanji came back from his shower, feeling refreshed and ready to go to bed, he found Zoro staring at the ceiling, lying on his back on the large bed. The room still smelled faintly like what they had done. It caused a blush to rise high on Sanji’s cheeks.

“Hey, Sanji?”

“Hmm?”

“Stay the night?”

Sanji swallowed. “What?”

“It’s like 4:30,” Zoro shrugged. “You can crash here. The bed’s certainly big enough.”

Sanji worried his bottom lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’ve been living here for _months_ and we’ve been together for three. It’s about high time we had a sleepover.”

Sanji chuckled. “Well, when you put it like _that_ , how can I refuse?”

Zoro grinned and beckoned him over to the bed. “You can’t.”

He kissed Sanji on the lips softly, then went into his own shower. “Don’t wait up, if you’re tired, you can just sleep.”

Sanji couldn’t sleep. He felt like he was forgetting something. Something important.

When Zoro came back from his shower, his hair wet and messy, Sanji laughed. He really did look like a drowned cat.

“Oh come on, most people get tired from sex,” Zoro said. “Something keeping you up?”

Sanji frowned and adjusted himself in the bed. “Zoro … what happened on my birthday? Before I passed out?”

“I uh …” Zoro bit his bottom lip. “I’ve, well, you might not remember but …” He took a deep breath. “I told you something. Before you passed out. And I want to tell you it again.”

“What?” Sanji asked in a soft voice.

“ _Aishiteru_.”

It was so soft, Sanji barely heard it but when he did, his breath caught in his throat. “Z-Zoro …”

“ _Aishiteru_ , Sanji,” he repeated.

“I …”

“I’m not expecting an answer,” said Zoro quickly. “I just … wanted to tell you.”

Sanji nodded, feeling choked up. God he was fucking emotional, wasn’t he? But from the look in Zoro’s eyes, he could tell the swordsman was also going through a roller-coaster of emotions as well. He reached up and gently touched his face. “I …”

Zoro shook his head, closing his eyes. “Don’t force yourself to say anything.”

“But—”

“Sanji,” Zoro said in a firm voice. “Please.”

Sanji knew Zoro didn’t want to force him to say it back, but it was obvious that he wanted to hear it. It made him feel like he had to, and he knew that was exactly what Zoro didn’t want. He didn’t want Sanji to think he had to say it too. He didn’t want Sanji to feel obligated to give him a response, he wanted Sanji to tell him because he felt it too, not because he felt like it was his duty.

 _I can’t say it yet, Zoro,_ Sanji thought to himself, staring at the swordsman’s face, his long lashes, his sharp features, his eyelids that when they were open, showed Sanji the most beautiful shade of hazel he had ever seen. _Not yet, but soon._

He gently ran his fingers over Zoro’s lips, the younger man parting them in response, letting out a soft sigh.

 _Soon_.


	33. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING  
> EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter for a while, as I'll be focusing on finishing a Star Trek story. I KNOW it's not the ideal chapter to end on for an indefinite break, but rest assured, I WILL come back to the story and you will get your ending.

Zoro swore, the blond was going to kill him one of these days.

It didn’t bother him that much that it had been a few days and he had no response to his confession. It was true, he didn’t want to pressure the blond into replying, or feeling pressure to say something back just because Zoro had jumped the gun. Though it would’ve been nice to hear _something_.

It wasn’t that Sanji kept going for his cigarettes, only to realize he had none. The random make-out sessions had increased considerably and they were nice. Lazy kisses were something he had never experienced with Her, so it was new, when Sanji reached out for him blindly, groping at air until Zoro met him, and their lips slid against each other’s softly, more for the sake of contact than anything else. Occasionally, Sanji would stop in the middle of walking the street, trying to waft the fumes in his direction, which, Zoro had to give him points for creativity, but were no less harmful to his health.

It wasn’t even that he was sitting on the couch, watching an anime with the cook, capable of feeling his IQ dropping.

It was that the cook gave him blue balls like no one else’s business.

“What’s this one again?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the weight of Sanji on his side.

“ _Naruto_.”

“Okay.” Could he readjust himself on the couch so that his erm, _predicament_ was less visible? “Why the fuck does he wear so much orange? It clashes with his hair.”

Sanji snorted. “As if you have any room to talk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Have you _looked_ in a mirror?”

Zoro felt he was dressed okay. He was in a plain grey t-shirt and some of his _best_ sweatpants. He had come back from the gym, (one of the ways he distracted himself from _that_ muscle was by focusing on others) and it wasn’t like he had to impress Sanji. They were way past that point in the relationship when you thought your significant other was perfect and could do no wrong. They had never really had one of those stages ever, to be honest. Which meant Sanji never let him get away with shit.

“All you do is wear suits,” Zoro pointed out. “I’m casual.”

“You _reek_ of the gym.”

“That’s probably because that’s where I was?” The swordsman rolled his eyes. “Moving on. So Blondie’s voiced by a woman, right?”

“So?”

“Can they never get a man to voice men?”

“The character is _twelve_ ,” Sanji said. He was getting defensive. “Lots of pre-pubescent male characters are voiced by girls.”

Zoro tilted his head. “Are those goggles of his supposed to be like … substitution for that headband thing? Like, is it supposed to symbolize how he’s always been a ninja at heart, and just needed an upgrade to make it official?”

“Maybe, no one ever knows how exactly the mind of a _mangaka_ works.”

“The mind of a _what_?”

Sanji twisted from his spot on Zoro’s side, much to the swordsman’s annoyance. He missed the cook’s warmth, but the fire in the blond’s eyes more than made up for it. “How did you survive middle school?”

“I was homeschooled a lot?” Zoro shrugged. “Went to school for like, the last year of high school, went to university for a bit, met Luffy and his weird-ass gang and then I just … stopped?”

“Every normal boy is obsessed with manga.”

“I liked swords.”

Sanji smirked. “Compensating?”

“You _know_ I’m not.” Zoro bit his lip. That was _not_ the right direction for his thoughts to go. It wasn’t necessarily _painful_ to be basically half-mast at all times when in Sanji’s presence, but it was uncomfortable and he certainly didn’t want Sanji thinking that he was with him for his body. “So, uh, let me see if I can get this straight. Naruto, a blond oddball with a swirly-ass tattoo on his stomach which seals up this demon with nine-tails—”

“Kyuubi.”

“Right, Kirby—”

“You _know_ that’s not what I said.” Sanji huffed out his cheeks, which was unfairly adorable, and Zoro filed it away to think about whenever he got annoyed at Sanji.

“Hush now, I’m trying to understand this thing. Who the fuck comes up with this sort of thing? He’s totally obsessed with ramen— _oh_! Naruto … ramen … I got it!” Zoro snorted. “They like their puns, don’t they? Anyway, so he wants to become the Sage—“

“ _Hokage_ ,” Sanji corrected sharply. He should _not_ have used that voice with Zoro, because it made the swordsman shift in his seat in a totally obvious way.

“I’m allowed to make mistakes. So he thinks he can become the master of his village by gender-bending himself into sexy, naked women? And he’s failed his ninja application test _twice_? So he’s an idiot on top of everything? Are _these_ the kinds of role models you get when you’re in middle school?”

“Can you not appreciate that I’m sharing something I like with you?” Sanji sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I’m appreciating it.”

The cook snorted.

“Okay fine, I’m … processing it. It’s all kind of far-fetched, isn’t it?”

“ _Galley-La_ is far fetched, and it’s set in the _real world_ , at least this one is set in a mystical one. Now hush, you’re missing the good parts.”

Zoro caught a sideways glance at the blond.

_That’s my boyfriend._

It felt weird to think.

Zoro had been in relationships before (though, admittedly not many), but never with a man. Everything with Sanji felt like a new experience, and he wasn’t sure if it was because the blond was male, or because he was himself.

With his ex-girlfriends, Zoro had always been so careful, so calculated. He’d spend so much time focusing on what he said, making sure he didn’t offend them. He would inevitably blow a fuse, because he only had so much patience, and they’d fight, usually with slapping involved. Sometimes the first fight was all it took to end it. Sanji already knew about his bad temper, and he hadn’t shied away. While he was cautious around Sanji, to make sure he would never be associated with those _bastards_ , he had a certain freedom with him. A liberty that he could be as rough as he wanted, and Sanji wouldn’t be offended by his vulgar tongue or his unthinking words, because Sanji understood him, knew that sometimes Zoro just sucked at words and didn’t know how to formulate sentences.

With women, Zoro had always been soft. Pushing them up against a door was all fun and games until they started to complain how the wood was digging into their back, or Zoro should support them. They’d try to use his strength, wrap their legs around his waist, and when he faltered, caught off guard and dropped them, they thought he was telling them they were too fat. They always needed comfort and while Zoro didn’t mind it, he always felt awkward about it. Sanji never demanded those types of things from him. They had their own system, something that worked for them and Zoro was very comfortable with. Zoro didn’t have to worry he was being too rough with him, Sanji wasn’t about to go yelling about how abusive Zoro was just because he held onto Sanji a little too tight, or liked to brawl with him.

He kept Zoro in line, unlike everyone. Everyone, but _Her_. She never let him get away with shit.

Zoro never worried too much about his manners. Sanji had already seen the worst of him, having lived with him for a few months before they had entered into this relationship. Plus, he had seen his atrocious table manners during his meals at the Baratie. He wasn’t considered rude just because he didn’t know dining etiquette to a T— well, if he did, it was just an eye roll and it was meant endearingly.

It required so much less effort, in a way— except it didn’t.

Because Zoro was _so smart_ , he seemed to be fucking up at every turn, so yeah, it took effort to maintain. Maybe he should’ve sat Sanji down and had a talk about what they were doing sooner than he did, so that the blond didn’t think Zoro was _using him_ , and admitting to his hatred of hearts and flowers and blind babies in diapers had not been the _smartest_ thing he had done, but he was navigating the waters. It had been a while.

Zoro was no stranger to love, though he wouldn’t say he was an expert in it. He hadn’t handled it ideally the last time, but this felt different from last time.

Maybe every love is different. Because there were certain things that felt familiar, but others that came totally out of left field.

“Are you even paying attention anymore?”

“Why’s the guy have silver hair?” Zoro asked, scanning over the screen.

“It’s anime. Hair knows no bounds,” said the cook dryly.

“Wait. _That’s_ his clone?” Zoro wrinkled his nose. “It looks like a rag doll.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Just imagine if we watched _Shippuden_.”

“ _Shippuden?_ There’s _more_?”

“Of course there’s fucking more,” the blond huffed. “It’s the world’s best selling manga, like, _ever_. If you think he ditches the orange jumpsuit, you’re wrong.”

“He _doesn’t_?”

“Well, sort of.” Sanji shrugged. “He gets one that has black and orange.”

“ _Seriously_?”

“Yup.”

Zoro didn’t care what Sanji said. This was _way_ more far-fetched than _Galley-La_. He frowned at the exchange happening on screen. “That silver haired dick just lied to him, didn’t he?”

Sanji scoffed. “No shit.”

“Kay wait, hold up! I’m supposed to believe that this kid has had a _literal demon inside of him_ since his fucking umbilical chord got cut, and _no one fucking told him_?”

“It was decreed—”

“Fucking being decreed, how do you not even find out by _accident_? Like oh, hey, I just got beat up pretty fucking badly, and now I’ve more or less just walked it off. Maybe there’s a demon inside of me helping me heal! Or like, he has an _insane_ amount of energy, even if we assume he’s ADHD. You’re telling me _no one_ thought it would be a good idea to tell this kid about his demonic fox roommate? Not even his sensei?”

“The Homage did it so that Naruto wouldn’t be discriminated, which you would _know_ if you stopped talking—”

“Great fucking job,” Zoro snapped. “He’s a model citizen, ain’t he? Defacing sacred monuments and the like. Give the boy a prize.”

As the episode went on, Zoro found it was easier to invest himself in the confusing plot, with Sanji laughing at him at every turn.

“NO! BULLSHIT! I CALL BULLSHIT!” Zoro screamed, watching as the small area was surrounded by shadow clones. “You’re telling me he just picked up the magical scroll, read it a few times and was like yup, I’m good to go, I’ve turned my rag doll clones into a thousand really good, quality clones that I can also turn into sexy babes?” Zoro shook his head. “I call _bull. Shit._ ”

As the credits rolled for the end of the episode, Zoro rolled his eyes. “So his fucking teacher _knows_ , and he’s like yay, congratulations, you get to be a ninja! But I’m still not going to explain the whole demon thing that my traitor potential boyfriend was going on about.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow.

“What? Those two _definitely_ had hate sex, at the very least. Either way, he should just tell it to him straight.”

“He’s _twelve_.”

“The sooner he knows, the sooner he can face the harsh realities of life.”

“You’re the type of person who sees a person take a bullet to the head and tell them to walk it off, aren’t you?”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Whatever. Just put on the next episode.”

_That_ got Sanji excited.

Zoro sat back and watched, with Sanji interrupting at certain intervals to mention how ridiculous the whole show seemed to be when suddenly Sanji pulled him by the collar of his shirt, and kissed him.

“I need a cigarette,” breathed the blond.

“Enough to stretch my shirt?” Zoro teased, trying to focus on the blood pounding in his ears and keeping it there.

“Enough to rip your shirt.”

_Holy shit._

Zoro’s situation down south was not getting any better when Sanji pulled him closer and tugged so hard, the swordsman fell on top of him.

“Am I crushing you?” he asked softly, their lips ghosting over each other.

“Fine,” grunted the cook. He wrapped an arm around Zoro’s neck, pulling him in and shutting him up.

This was _not_ good for his blood pressure.

He could feel Sanji beneath him, every movement he made. He tried to calm himself down, to relax, because he wasn’t trying to rush things, he really wasn’t, but Sanji was making it so hard to keep his head on straight. The smooth skin of his stomach rubbed against him as Sanji’s shirt rode up a little. Zoro’s hands slid underneath the fabric just a little when—

_THUD._

Zoro rubbed the back of his head as it hit the floor. Sanji leaned over the side of the couch and winced. “Sorry. Knee jerk reaction.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“Are you volunteering?”

Sanji grinned. “Maybe.”

Zoro folded his legs underneath him and made himself comfortable on the floor. “Well, now I think I don’t want it anymore.”

“Now you’re just being prissy.”

“I’m _always_ prissy.”

Sanji leaned down and pulling at Zoro’s shirt _yet again_ (honestly the stretching had to stop eventually), captured his lips.

Zoro attempted to get back up, guide himself onto the couch, but Sanji came down from his higher position and took a seat in Zoro’s lap on the floor, forcing him to crane his neck upwards. Zoro knew it was going to make his neck sore, but he complied. He _loved_ it when Sanji took charge.

He pulled away from Zoro, and much to the swordsman’s embarrassment, he found himself leaning forward, trying to chase after the cook’s taste. The blond leaned close to his ear and gently licked the shell with his tongue, biting down gently.

Zoro let out a gasp and pulled at Sanji’s tie, trying to bring him closer, but the blond avoided his attempt to control the situation, tilting Zoro’s head back until it was on the coffee table and his spine was arching in a way that wasn’t really comfortable, but he was going to complain if Sanji thought it right to control him this way.

“Fuck, Sanji,” he muttered as the man bit into his neck, and Zoro’s hips lifted off the ground in response. He lapped at the mark he had left behind, sucking gently. “You should … shit, you should stop.”

Sanji rested on his ankles, raising his head. “You don’t like it?”

“Can you not feel me?” His throat was dry, and he felt like he was sixteen again. This was embarrassing, on so many levels.

Sanji frowned, running his hand along the slope of the swordsman’s neck. “I left a mark,” he said thoughtfully.

“Fuck, you’re killing me.”

The blond’s eyes widened. “Oh wait, is that …?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Zoro said through clenched teeth.

“Do you need me to uh … stop?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Sanji bit his lip. “I mean I could—”

“No, it’s fine,” Zoro said, cutting him off. “I can deal with it. Just … give me some time, and I’ll be fine. You’re not ready for something like this, and I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

_Breathe. Breathing exercises help, right?_ It didn’t _hurt_ , it was just uncomfortable and he could handle discomfort, he really could. There was no reason for Sanji to be as worried as he was about it.

“You seem distracted.”

“Distracted? No … I’m just … just give me a second. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay …”

“Hey, you can keep watching,” Zoro insisted, getting up. “I’ll be back soon. Just feel a bit gross since the gym so … Yeah.”

“Do you need me to …?”

Zoro shook his head. “I don’t _need_ anything from you. And I’m not asking for something you’re not ready to give, so it’s all good. Just let me take a shower, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Sanji nodded, though he seemed uneasy.

Zoro went into the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes, locking the door. He stared at himself in the mirror, and slapped himself.

“Get it together,” he muttered, careful to keep his voice low. The walls were really thin, though he couldn’t expect much else from such a shitty apartment.

Chuckling to himself, he got into the shower and turned it on cold.

Pressing his head against the cool tile of the wall, he bit his lip to keep in a yelp of surprise at the sheer temperature of the water. He was going to be fine. No one had ever tied of sexual tension before, right? Besides, he had gone a pretty long time in his life without having sex. He didn’t mind not having sex with Sanji, he respected the man too much to push him for something he wasn’t ready to give, but at the same time, the fact that he felt he couldn’t do _anything_ with the blond made him antsy.

He could do this.

The cold was doing nothing to help him though, if he was being honest.

There was something about Sanji taking control that got Zoro really hot. He’d be lying if he said the sounds the cook made didn’t go straight to his cock, but seeing Sanji _confident_? That was like an aphrodisiac.

Sanji was gorgeous, and he didn’t even seem to realize. It wasn’t because he was humble, or anything, he just seemed to genuinely _not know_. He still avoided mirrors, never looked at himself for too long. Enough to make himself tidy for the day, to brush his hair, to shave enough so that he had that stubble, but never a five o’clock shadow, and then he was done. In and out, never spending long staring at his own reflection.

The thing was, Sanji was like sex on legs. His legs looked like sex, long and strong and muscular. They were so powerful, and went on for miles. They were beautiful. His fingers were too. They were hardened from years of working in the kitchen, knives and rough-handling dough for years had given him his fair amount of calluses, but they still felt so gentle on the skin.

In the beginning of their relationship, Zoro had been glad Sanji wasn’t ready for sex. Neither was Zoro, and if they had tried in those first few months, it would have been a total disaster. He had been scared that he wouldn’t like Sanji in _that way_ , that maybe he could hold him and kiss him and want to be with him, but never _with him_.

That apparently wasn’t a problem if his unyielding hard-on was anything to go by.

The water droplets got in his eye and he groaned. He was taking too long. His body still felt too hot, the water didn’t cool him down, only seemed to steam when it hit his skin.

It felt so _wrong_ to do this, but …

Zoro wrapped his hand around his aching member, and began to stroke himself.

He could see him, in his head, spread out on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck, his pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The cook’s arms were above his head, his lips were slightly parted, and he had a look in his eyes, one that pulled at Zoro.

One of confidence.

In his mind, Zoro walked over to him, settled his knees on either side of Sanji’s waist and ran his hands up and down the exposed skin of his torso. Sanji arched up into his touch, teased him about how much he seemed to like the feel of Sanji’s skin.

His grip on himself tightened as Zoro imagined that baritone voice saying his name, like he had before, utterly _wrecked_ and hoarse and strained, breaking as Zoro rubbed the cook through his pants, the dignified Sanji exposing himself to Zoro without a second thought, not self-conscious, not hiding, allowing Zoro to _see_ him.

He imagined trailing kisses down Sanji’s neck, marking him up with a few hickeys on his way, and Sanji would giggle at each one, kick him gently with his calf, but tightened his grip on Zoro’s hair with each bite. They’d grind their hips together, and Sanji’s voice would drop even lower, his eyes would get hooded and his eyelids would become heavy as he looked at Zoro like he was a meal he wanted to eat.

His hand moved faster, and he moved to lean against the wall, biting into his arm to keep himself from being loud. He couldn’t forget that Sanji was right outside, down the hall, sitting on that same couch, oblivious to what Zoro was doing.

The Sanji in his mind suddenly flipped them over and then Zoro was underneath him, and Sanji was taking charge. With a single hand, he trapped Zoro’s arms above his head and bit on the swordsman’s ear, _growling._

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Fantasy Sanji asked, and Zoro was sure one of his moans escaped him as a thrill ran down his spine. The prospect of Sanji dominating him like that, being confident and sure of himself and taking what he wanted …

“ _Shit_ ,” Zoro hissed. He was so close, his skin was burning. He barely even noticed the water as it ran down his legs.

“I want you … to fuck yourself for me,” said Fantasy Sanji. “Can you do that for me, Marimo? Open yourself up for my cock.”

Zoro’s eyes shut tightly, and he bit his lip as he removed his arm from its position of covering his mouth. There were teeth marks in his skin, he was pretty sure he was bleeding, but it barely even registered as his hand moved down, around his body.

His hand on his cock stilled as he considered what he was about to do. His mind was cloudy with lust, but there didn’t seem to be anything _wrong_ , with what he was going to do. He didn’t think so, at least. He slowly ran his fingers along his opening, unsure of what he was doing, what he was going to do, what was even going on.

He pressed against it, felt the pressure, but pulled back before it could enter him.

“Teasing yourself for me?” Fantasy Sanji asked, licking his lips.

Zoro spread his hand wide across his ass, and pulled one cheek apart from the other. The water dripped down his back, slid down his spine, and teased his entrance. He was shaking, his feet were unsteady as he tried again, pressing a finger against his hole, with the pad up. It couldn’t go in this way, but he could feel the pressure building, same as in his gut.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moaned, tugging at his cock. He was going to do it. It felt too good, he had to try, and it wasn’t like they weren’t going to do this at some point, right? May as well “open himself up”, as Fantasy Sanji had said.

“Zoro?”

The swordsman froze, his finger still pressed against his hole, so close to entering, but not quite.

_Fuck._

“Yeah?”

“You okay in there?”

_Fuck him and his sexy voice— no, better not think about him and the word fuck …_

“Yeah, fine,” he gasped out. If he could just avoid letting on about what he was doing, then he’d be golden.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” He nearly winced. He was _so_ close and Sanji’s voice was doing nothing to help him. Well, nothing to help him stop thinking about Sanji in this way. “You can go back to the living room, I’ll come out when I’m done.”

“If you’re certain …”

“Yes, I’m certain, now fucking _go_ ,” hissed the swordsman, unsure of how long he could remain calm without grabbing himself in hand again.

“Okay …”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” Zoro said quickly. “I’m … tired. I uh …”

Sanji coughed awkwardly. “Are you um … _relieving_ yourself?”

Zoro grit his teeth. “I’m not desperate.” He clamped down on his jaw to hold in a wince, but it escaped him anyway. Fuck it, Sanji had seen him on some of his worst days. “But … if I was … hypothetically …”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the door. “Zoro …”

“What … what would you say?” He wasn’t going to freak out, he wasn’t going to act stupid, but it was harder to convince himself of that as the silence dragged on until—

“Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

“I … I would probably … help you out.” He could almost _see_ the shades of red Sanji was turning. Sanji was gorgeous when he blushed.

“Oh.”

“Is that … okay?”

Zoro breathed in through clenched teeth. “I um …” Closing his eyes, he wondered if he was going to regret this, but he forced the words out in a rush. “Talk to me.”

“W-what?”

“Talk to me,” Zoro repeated. “Just … talk to me.”

“About … about what?”

“Anything.” He was so close, it didn’t even matter. Sanji could babble on about the anatomy of a snail and it would probably still help him reach completion. “I like … I want to hear your voice.”

“Ah, alright I guess.” There was movement on the other side of the door.

“Stay outside!” He didn’t want the first time Sanji ever saw him this desperate to be this. “I can hear you just fine through the door.”

He heard the blond slide down the door, sitting on the floor. “Okay. Um … you’re hard. Wow, okay … my boyfriend is jacking off to me talking right now … This is … this is … different.”

Zoro snorted, and began to rub himself slowly. “Keep going.”

“This … shouldn’t we have a talk about kink negotiation before this? I mean … I dunno, I feel like this is the sort of thing you talk about before you just … make me talk to you. I could just go in there and help you out, physically.”

“It’s fine, just keep talking,” Zoro assured him. “You don’t have to think about what I’m doing right now, tell me about your day.”

Sanji laughed nervously. It was a beautiful sound. “I can’t _not_ think about what you’re doing. I guess I uh … I just wanted to know … is my voice really that erotic to you?”

“Have you ever _heard_ yourself?” Zoro asked. He knew his voice was leaving him, his throat felt dry, and raw.

“You’re kind of … loud, you know? It’s weird, I didn’t think you would be. Always seemed like the stoic type. But … shit, the sounds you make … I mean they _could_ be louder but …”

“Do you want me to scream your name? Cause I can,” Zoro said. He was quite sure he was going to anyway. His knees were knocking against each other, and even if Sanji wasn’t really saying anything _sexy_ , it was still driving him forward. There was silence. “Do you like that? The thought of me screaming your name?”

“Fuck …”

“Are _you_ hard, Sanji?”

“A little …”

Zoro groaned. “Fuck, tell me about it. Talk to me, Sanji. Touch yourself. I want to hear about it. What you’re doing, I’m so _close_ , I just need …”

“I’m … I’m unzipping my pants, I’m wrapping … shit, my h-hand around myself … Stroking …”

“Fast? Slow?”

“S-slow,” Sanji breathed. He sounded far away, like his mind was elsewhere. “It’s hot … my skin’s hot … too hot. I can’t …”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Y-you. Who else would I think about when touching my cock?”

Zoro hissed. “Shit, keep going. Talk to me just like that.”

“You like it … when I say stuff like that? When I talk … dirty?”

“Y-yeah,” Zoro gasped. “Close … so much closer … keep going.”

“I’m— _shit_ , I’m thinking about you … biting my neck, thinking about … your hands … on me …”

Zoro grit his teeth as he trembled. “I like touching you,” he said, trying to sound steady, but he knew it wasn’t working. “I like the feel of your skin underneath my fingers … Y-your body is … so _sensitive_ ,” he rasped out.

“I’m …” Sanji choked. “Shit, I’m …” He cut off with a sudden cry, and Zoro quickly followed, his breath coming out in heaves as he tried to steady himself. His legs had suddenly decided they couldn’t support his weight as his knees hit the tile. It was not a comfortable position to be in, however knowing that Sanji was on the other side of the door, just as hot and bothered as he was made something coil in his gut.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Zoro said. “I’ll let you wash up.”

Sanji made a sound of acknowledgment and Zoro turned off the water. He wasn’t sure how much he had just wasted, and he knew the bill would come to bite him in the ass, but he felt light on air as he wrapped a towel around himself. He felt _exhausted_ , somehow, and as unlocked the door, he realized he had forgotten to bring in clothes with him.

“I’m going to open the door now, okay?”

“Hmm.”

Zoro pushed at the door to find Sanji sitting on the floor, slightly to the side. He was a mess, with his pants unzipped, and his boxers stained.

“C’mon, get up and wash it off,” Zoro said, smirking slightly. “I’m going to get dressed, and we’ll continue watching, alright?”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Was it the orange that did it for you?”

“I like my blonds better dressed.”

Sanji chuckled softly. “I uh … this is embarrassing.”

“How do you think _I_ feel?” Zoro put a hand on his back and steered him into the bathroom. “I’ll get you a set of clothes, and I’ll have them laid out for you, okay?”

“Can you bring them … can you bring them into the bathroom? I won’t lock the door.”

Zoro bit his lip. Sanji’s head was turned to the side, and he was blushing. He wasn’t comfortable, that was obvious, and it had nothing to do with the after-affects of masturbating.

“Okay.”

  
Sanji eventually joined him on the couch. They both stared at the TV screen, frozen at the beginning of the next episode.

“So …”

“Don’t make this awkward.”

Sanji scoffed. “Awkward? It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”

“And you’re making it awkward.”

“Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” Zoro reached across Sanji to get the remote from him. “So, we’re going to continue?”

“We’re not going to talk about what happened?”

“I mean it’s pretty obvious what we did,” Zoro shrugged. “There’s no reason to make a big deal out of it. You’re my boyfriend. I think you’re hot. Makes sense I get turned on by you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” The swordsman snuck a sideways glance at the cook. “If you want to talk about it, we can.”

“I just mean … I don’t know … am I … is it a problem for you? That I … I’m not like, trying to sleep with you?”

“No. Would I _like_ to sleep with you? Yes. But not before you want to. I’ll take my time, I don’t have a problem with that. How shitty would it be if I pressured you for it? Besides, it’s not like we don’t do _anything_ , we go at your pace, and I’m cool with that.”

“But I mean … you’re a healthy male, you _want_ it.”

“But I don’t _need_ it,” Zoro pointed out. “I’m not someone who’s controlled by their libido. Before we do something as big as sex, we’d have to have a talk about it. A proper one. I don’t want us doing anything in the heat of the moment, then there’s room for regrets. I don’t want to make you regret anything we do, Sanji. Okay?”

Sanji bit his lip. “Right …”

“So, next episode— what are you doing?”

Zoro couldn’t see. A towel had been dropped onto his head, and he could feel Sanji’s hands running along his scalp through the material.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t dry your hair properly.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but enjoyed the feel of Sanji massaging his head. The towel was rough, pulling at his hair, but he enjoyed it all the same. Sanji caught a fistful of his hair and pulled. Zoro let out a mewl of pleasure, which he should be embarrassed about, but it was his boyfriend.

“You really like when people play with your hair, don’t you?”

“Kind of, I guess?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Zoro shrugged, trying to focus on the conversation as Sanji raked his fingers through Zoro’s hair. “I like a little pain with my pleasure.”

“Masochist.”

“Maybe.”

“So you’re not denying it?”

“I don’t see the point.” He tipped his head back, as Sanji pulled the towel away and looked up at his boyfriend. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? _Naruto_ marathon?”

“Thought I’d make us some ramen for the occasion,” Sanji said.

“Fitting.”

“Thought so myself.”

“My boyfriend’s so smart.”

Sanji wrinkled his nose. “You’re full of shit.”

“And yet you’re dating me.”

Zoro picked up the remote. “Alright, next one?”

“Yup. Two hundred eighteen more episodes to go.”

“The _fuck_?”

As they watched, Zoro couldn’t help but draw parallels between Naruto and Sanji. Perhaps initially it was the bright blue eyes and blond hair, but it was deeper than that the more he watched. Whereas all the ninjas had fairly plain colour palettes, Naruto has bright colours, drawing your attention.He was constantly in pain, but never let it show, burying it deep and pretending it didn’t exist, insisting he was fine. Yes, the two were quite similar indeed.

Zoro watched as one of the stupidest love triangles he had ever witnessed unfolded before him (and he watched _Galley La_ ), as Naruto made it obvious he liked the pink haired girl, who in turn obviously liked the guy with the duck butt hairdo.

And then—

“Did … did they just _kiss_?”

It was there, Naruto and Sasuke were kissing on screen. What the fuck was happening? It was over in seconds, not even, and then the story continued on, as though it had never happened. Something about it didn’t sit well with Zoro. That they used a gay kiss as a gag, for amusement.

“That’s a really shitty first kiss,” he noted. “The angle’s … _weird_ , and I mean ….”

Sanji laughed. “We could try it, see how it is for ourselves.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

The cook turned red instantly. “It was just a joke, jeez.”

“I mean, do you wanna try it?”

“I’m not _that_ much of an otaku.”

“If it’s something you wanna try, we can do it,” Zoro insisted. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“Lots of things are embarrassing. Doesn’t stop me from doing them.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I mean the only way to make it more embarrassing would be to cosplay the whole scene. Which, I’m down for, if you wanna give it a shot. You just have to find a dark shirt, and I’ve gotta find some orange … I bet you could make orange sexy.”

Sanji was blushing now, pulling his legs close to his chest. “I don’t … I mean … if you’re not … if you’re not _opposed_ , then I guess we could …”

“Hey.” Zoro put a hand on Sanji’s shoulder. “If you can’t geek out over anime with your boyfriend, who _can_ you geek out with?” He rolled his eyes. “We can just set up the kitchen, give one of us a higher leverage point than the other, do it like that.”

“But that’s a mistreatment of kitchen equipment.”

“Where else am I supposed to sit? Would you prefer to try it on the fire escape and potentially give me a heart attack while you’re at it, again?”

“I mean, _no_ , but …”

“So we’ll use the kitchen. It’s where you're supposed to spice things up anyway, am I right?”

Sanji nudged him gently in the shoulder and Zoro smirked. “C’mon, let’s get it set up.”

* * *

 

They positioned the island closer to the kitchen table, and after some debate about who would do what, Sanji was on top of the island, leaning forward towards Zoro, who tried (and failed) to mimic the too-serious ninja.

“Stop laughing!”

“You have to admit, this is kind of ridiculous.”

Sanji seemed to grow smaller at the remark. “We don’t have to do it, you know.”

“We’ve committed so far though!” Zoro laughed, before trying to school his features into a scowl. “C’mere.”

Sanji leaned forward, and their lips met.

Instantly, Zoro wrapped an arm around the cook, scared for his balance and pulled him closer. Sanji toppled forward, his knees sliding onto the table, which, if Zoro was thinking straight, most probably could not hold the blond’s weight.

Pulling him by his tie, Zoro climbed onto the table itself and ignored the way it shook underneath their combined weights. Sanji tasted like spices, with a tang of bitterness. Zoro always did think sweetness was overrated.

Running his fingers through the blond’s hair, he pulled him on top of him. One of the table’s legs teetered dangerously, so Zoro tried to guide him off the surface, but in his attempt to maintain the kiss, he fell off, taking Sanji with him.

He just barely managed to keep his head from hitting the cold floor, Sanji’s warmth on top of him distracting him from the cool on his back.

Sanji let out a nervous chuckle.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Their breaths mixed together, so close, but not quite touching.

“Come here often?”

Sanji giggled. It was possibly the cutest shit Zoro had ever seen. “That is a _terrible_ line,” he declared. “Can’t think of anything better?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Sanji nodded, their foreheads bumping against each other lightly. “Yes, I am. What is wrong with me?”

“Dunno, maybe I should get you checked out.”

“Am I crushing you?”

“A little,” Zoro admitted. Sanji wasn’t necessarily light on Zoro’s chest, but as he said, he enjoyed a little pain with his pleasure. “I can deal.”

“It’s unsanitary on the floor.”

“That it is.”

“Maybe we should get off it.”

“Mmm… Splendid idea.” Zoro’s hands moved to Sanji’s hips, holding him in place. “You know, you could sit up.”

“I could,” Sanji agreed. “But I won’t.”

“Careful, or else I’ll think you like this sort of thing.”

“Maybe I do.”

“So,” Zoro breathed. The air was thick with tension, and the swordsman found he was content just like this, with Sanji on top of him, doing absolutely nothing, just talking. It was a weird position, granted, but it was a causal intimacy that Sanji wasn’t shying away from and that overjoyed the man. “That’s a no to the anime reenactments.”

“Guess so, spoilsport.”

“You’re the one who fell forward too much.”

“Technicalities. I’m not the one who got us on the floor.”

“You’re not complaining.”

“No, suppose I’m not.”

Sanji leaned forward and kissed Zoro softly, their lips sliding against each other gently in a lazy kiss that didn’t ask for anything, didn’t demand for more, and existed purely to have that contact.

They stayed like that for a while, lazy kisses until Zoro complained a bit about his back and Sanji sat up on his lap and they continued on the floor. Zoro probably needed to get the table checked out, but he could do that later.

“Zoro,” Sanji breathed, pulling away. The swordsman tried to chase after his lips, but Sanji stopped him. “I want to …talk.”

“We’re talking right now,” Zoro replied absent-mindedly. Sanji’s skin was so distracting. Unable to kiss his mouth, he moved to his neck, at the slope of skin that was so _inviting._

“No, I meant _the_ talk.”

Zoro wrinkled his nose as he traced a finger along the cook’s hip bone, making the one in his lap shiver. “What talk?”

“I want to do it.”

The swordsman froze in his movements and pulled away from the blond. “W-what?”

Sanji met his gaze fiercely, his cerulean eye showing no hint of doubt. “I want you to fuck me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on my [Tumblr](https://setkia.tumblr.com/)!  
> Or e-mail me setkia.writer@gmail.com!  
> I love talking to readers, seriously! Aside from time differences causing a delay, I'll always reply!


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